Tomorrow's Unforeseen Happiness
by LovingCurlyBlackHair
Summary: Molly Hooper left England in the hopes of never seeing or hearing of the infamous Sherlock Holmes again. But fate decided to give her something that will never let her forget him - a son. Now, almost fifteen years later, a job brings Molly and her son back to England and to a certain consulting detective. AU. DISCONTINUED.
1. Part 1

**PART 1**

* * *

_Molly bloody hated night-calls._ She despised them with a passion. It took everything in her not to snap an irate "NO!" at Courtney Brown, the lead detective for Molly's unit, when she called Molly at three a.m. asking her to come down to examine a body. Instead of yelling at Brown, Molly simply sighed and gave a resigned "Yes". Of course, Molly had to wake up her son, Theo, and tell him that he would have to walk to school.

Theodore groaned sleepily at his mom. "But Mom it's supposed to rain today!"

Molly smirked and mussed Theo's brown curly hair. "Get a ride with Jack and Ty," she replied gently, kissing her son's messy mop. "I'm sure Mrs. Wilson wouldn't mind driving you." Theo simply nodded, resigned to the fact that his mom had to go on this case. He opened his eyes and looked at her with worry. Molly's heart stopped when she saw his beautiful, blue-green eyes, a signature mark from his... father.

Molly mentally slapped herself. _Do not think of him, Molly,_ she scolded_, you made the choice to leave him behind._

"Be careful, Mom," Theo whispered. "Only have the body in pieces, not you."

Molly smiled at her fourteen-year-old son. "Yes, dear." She stood up and padded softly to the door. She turned and gave him a "See you after school." But it was useless; Theo was already in a deep sleep.

* * *

When Molly arrived at the morgue, Brown surprised Molly by yawning sleepily at her arrival. It seemed that even the head detective didn't want to get out of bed this morning.

"Good early morning, Molly," the younger woman said tiredly.

Molly greeted her with a nod. "So what's the case?" she asked, cutting to the chase. Before her move from London to Miami, Molly would've exchanged pleasantries with Courtney Brown, but after having to mother a rambunctious son all by herself, Molly had more self-confidence. Molly Hooper had no problem showing her annoyance.

Brown nodded. "Well, we have a triple-homicide."

Molly gasped. "A t-triple?"

"I know, that's what I said," Brown replied gravely. "Two men and one woman. Mr. and Mrs. Ian Thornton and Mrs. Thornton's brother, discovered only this morning around twelve a.m., have been in the woods for more than a week."

Molly sighed. "Heavily decomposed, no doubt."

"Indeed, I would've called Ryan, but the man is away on his honeymoon," Brown said wearily. She looked at Molly with sympathy. "I know it's your day off, and you like to be with Theo when you can, but you're the only pathologist available."

Molly waved her hand dismissively at the younger woman. She felt bad about being annoyed at Courtney; it was no secret that Molly was the best pathologist in her unit, and everyone had lives, not just her. "It's fine," Molly said. She put her bag on the counter and grabbed to gloves from the box near her. She strode towards the three body bags on the metal slabs. She put two away, not caring who she started with, and unzipped the remaining one.

It was the woman, and Molly easily identified that the woman had been shot in the head from the gaping wound and stabbed several times in the chest and abdomen. Even though the woman's body was severely decomposed, Molly could tell that this woman had been stabbed while she was still alive and the bullet to the head had finished her off. "Wow," Brown said behind her, "whoever did this-"

"-was extremely pissed off," Molly finished. "I haven't seen a body this bad since I was in London." Molly winced when she thought of London. She rarely talked about her past life so casually, especially to her co-workers. She'd talked to Theo about her life in London before when he asked, but she never brought it up willingly. Theo had yet to bring up his father to her, which Molly was grateful for. She didn't think she could tell him yet.

"I'll say. This is the worst case I've seen, period." Brown let out a strangled gasp when Molly started to cut into the body.

Molly held back a laugh. "Maybe you should go sit down," she suggested, not turning around.

"Yeah," Brown replied, her voice weak, "maybe I should."

* * *

Molly was absolutely puzzled at the end of all three autopsies. The woman definitely was the original target. The two men both had gotten off with little more than a shot to the head. Their injuries suggested that they'd been killed assassin-style, quick and painless, a few days before the woman. This suggested that the woman had been tortured for a few days before she'd been brutally murdered.

Yet there was no DNA, no fingerprints, no _nothing_. Usually, Molly was able to figure out these cases with little or no trouble, but this one proved more troubling.

Brown had left soon after Molly finished the second autopsy on the woman's brother. It had been around seven a.m. when Brown had left Molly to herself. Molly had been in the process of cleaning her tools when Brown walked in, a grim expression on her face. "What?" Molly asked, immediately concerned despite herself.

"Well, we have a lead," Brown replied. "A former lover of Mrs. Thornton's, but he's not in the States anymore."

Molly frowned. "Where is he then?"

"London," Brown replied, "and apparently he has been murdering people there as well."

"That's horrible!" Molly replied.

"It is," Brown nodded, "but I remember mentioning how you used to live in London."

Molly felt her frown deepen. She didn't like where this was going. "Yes..." she said cautiously.

Brown took a deep breath, bracing herself. "I know that Theo's father lives in London, and I know you left England to come to the States because of his dad, but this whole unit _really_ needs you to go back."

Molly dropped her tools into the sink with a clatter, an alarmed look on her face. "W-what? WHAT?"

Brown nodded. "You are the best pathologist that this unit has, and I'm going over to London with you. I was allowed to bring one person, and I chose you." She paused, as Molly clutched her lab coat, fear very apparent in her eyes. "We are going to be over there for the summer, so I would suggest you bring Theo with you and find an apartment to live in."

Molly stared at her with wide eyes. "T-there is no way I could refuse?"

Brown grimaced. "I was worried you would say that. You can refuse Molly, but it would be a great help to me and the family of the Thorntons if you came with me."

This was it. If she accepted, Molly would have to face the man, the heartbreak, that she'd runaway from almost fifteen years ago. Her conscience was screaming no, but her heart was screaming yes. Molly almost could not believe her ears when she heard herself take a deep breath and say, "Okay, I'll go."

* * *

Molly cleaned up quickly enough to go and pick up Theo herself, knowing that she would have to talk over their soon-to-be new situation. She climbed into her car and allowed some tears to slip down her cheeks. She'd not been to London in almost fifteen years, not seen the people from her past life in even longer. She didn't know what she would do if she happened to run into any of them, especially if she had Theo with her. That would call for a conversation that she didn't want to have while her son was still in the dark about his parentage. She had no doubt that her old friends from London would no who Theo's father was.

The drive to her son's high school had been filled with sniffling and deep breaths. By the time she reached Miami High School, she'd composed herself the most she could, but her son had too much of _him_ in him. The moment Theo got in the car, he knew something was wrong.

"What is it, Mom?" he asked worriedly.

Molly wanted to cry at her son's perceptiveness and worry at her condition. She smiled softly at her son and waited for him to buckle up. "I will tell you at lunch. How do you feel about Italian?"

Theo nodded, and Molly started to drive. They filled the car ride with small talk about Theo's day. To say it was tense would to under exaggerate. Molly knew that her son knew enough of her moods to know that Molly dreaded telling him what was going on, but he didn't press her until they were seated at a table in a small, family-owned Italian restaurant with menus in front of them.

"So, what the hell is going on?" Theo questioned irritably.

"Theodore John Hooper!" Molly said sharply. "What have I told you about cursing?" She tried to ignore the stab in her heart as her son's annoyed face reminded her sharply of his father.

Theo made a noise of disgust, and Molly had to hold back laughter at the look on her son's face. It looked of one just like her father's. She composed herself and said, "You know that I used to live in London, yes?"

Theo nodded. "Of course I know. You have a slight accent and that was where I was conceived." Her son shrugged nonchalantly.

"Well," Molly said, taking a deep breath, "for the summer, we are going to be living there."

Theo blinked. "The _whole_ summer?"

Molly nodded, biting at her lip. Her son's expression was guarded, and Molly felt her mind flutter in annoyance when she couldn't read his expression. It was something that Theo just now learned how to do, and Molly didn't like that her son could hide things from her so easily. "Yes."

They were silent for a good ten minutes. While they sat, the waiter took their drink order and returned. When he left for the second time, Theo spoke. "I don't have a problem with London. In fact, I was going to ask if we could go there sometime, but I _do_ have a problem with the fact that you don't want to go."

Molly stared at her son, mouth agape. "H-how did you _know_ that?"

"So, I'm right?" Theo asked, smirking slightly.

Molly stuck her tongue out at her son. "Yes, you are."

"Well, why?"

"Why what?"

"Why am I right?"

Molly took a deep breath, preparing to tell her son some of her past. "In London, I had a group of friends... one of those friends became more than a friend." Molly looked down at her lap, remembering that particular friend. "We dated for six months, and, during that time, we grew apart." Molly's heart ached as she remembered the pain of watching _him_ slowly start to ignore her. "We ended up breaking up, and I was so... devastated that I decided to leave London, leave _England_, and come to the States. Two months went by, and I heard nothing from... him. I moved from New York City to here, in Miami, and took a position in the morgue. Then, one of the scariest things happened - I took a pregnancy test, and it was positive." She smiled at her handsome teenager, a person that she would always cherish with her whole heart. "I was so scared, but it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me."

Theo, who was frowning at the part of his father, smiled at his mom. "So that baby was me?"

Molly nodded. "I do not know if your father is still in London. He doesn't know that you exist because I kept it from him. He was never the parenting type."

"You should've told him, you know," Theo said, smiling softly at his mom.

Molly nodded and sniffed. "I was a coward at 29-years-old. I was afraid to face him." It was the truth. Molly still didn't know to this day how _he_ would have reacted, and she definitely didn't want to chance it when she was pregnant.

Theo was about to speak when the waiter came and took their orders. When the waiter left for the third time, Theo replied, "I am not angry, Mom, and I'm particularly upset I have never met my dad. He sounds... well, truthfully, he sounds like an asshole."

Molly looked up to glare at her son. "Theo..."

He waved his hand. "I know, I know. 'No cussing, Theodore John, or so help me...'" Molly chuckled at her son's crackled imitation of her. "But, anyway, I am not upset. Let's go to London, and if we see him there, we see him there. I'm doing just fine without a dad and you are doing just fine without a husband." Theo took his mother's hand, comforting her as she let the tears fall from her cheeks. "We're the Hoopers, and we will be fine."

Molly rubbed her son's hand that looked remarkably like his fathers, minus all the scars. She nodded. "Yes... yes, we are, and we will be."

* * *

A/N: Well, what do you think? I'm really excited for this story! Just to clarify ages and all that, Molly is forty-four, Theo is fourteen almost fifteen, and _he_ (LOL, since Molly won't say his name I won't either) is forty-eight. Don't get your panties in a bunch at their ages. _He_ will still be gorgeous, and Molly still looks like Molly, and Theo is, well, a mixture of the both of them. Read and review! xoxo Carly

PS: If you have any questions, just PM me; I would be happy to answer them.


	2. Part 2

**PART 2**

* * *

_Molly hadn't expected moving overseas to be so easy, especially with two people._ It had been a pain in the ass, frankly, when she had moved from London to the States. She didn't know if it was because of her over-emotional situation at the time that made moving so stressful, or because the system of immigration and emigration just got that much better. Either way, Molly was grateful that her and Theo's move had been smooth sailing.

Not to say that Molly still wasn't nervous at the possibility of running into _him_ in London, no matter how small the possibility was. She felt a fierce protectiveness over her son, as any mother would, and she knew that _he_ would not take the fact that he had a son lightly. Molly'd had nightmares before about him finding out about Theodore before, and none of those dreams were what Molly wanted for her son.

The only good thing about the move was that Theo was completely on board for whatever came their way. She talked to Courtney, as the detective wanted Molly to call her, on the phone many times making arrangements, and Molly would pace around her and Theo's house nervously. Theo would always stop what he was doing and grab his mother's hand, soothing her. When she would hang up the phone, Theo would hug her to him, comforting her, and Molly would marvel on how much taller her son was than her.

_He definitely did not inherit _my_ height,_ Molly thought to herself.

As the date to leave approached, Molly busied herself in work, and Theo busied himself with freshman finals and his friends. Theo was reluctant to leave all his buddies behind for the summer, but flat out refused to let Molly go on her own.

_"We are the Hoopers, and we can do anything,"_ he would tell her. Molly waited until she was in the privacy of her room to cry her eyes out at her son's selflessness. She didn't understand why she deserved such a boy in her life, even if she did help create him.

It was one incident in particular that made Molly know that whatever happened, her and Theo's relationship would never be damaged by the lack of a father.

* * *

_Molly'd woken up screaming. Her nightmare about Theo meeting his father had been horrible, and Molly couldn't help but cry when she awoke. Theo came running in, his blue-green eyes wild with concern, and immediately rushed to his mother. Molly let herself sob on her son's shoulder for a couple minutes before collecting herself and saying, "I'm okay now, Theodore."_

_Theo's eyes widened at his full name. It was a known fact in the Hooper Home that his mother only used his entire first name when she was angry at him or __upset about something, mostly the latter. He patted her back and whispered, "Don't worry anymore, Mom. I'm strong, and you're strong. Together, we are invincible, with or without my father. I love you, and you love me. We're the Hoopers, and we can do anything."_

_Molly then proceeded to grab her son by the neck and sob some more._

* * *

Theo raised an eyebrow when his laughed seemingly out of nowhere. "What's so funny?" he asked.

They sat in the airport, waiting for their flight to be called, and Molly'd let herself think in more detail about her life before Theo, if one would even call it that.

Molly shook her head. "Nothing, dear, just remembering something."

"Is it about me?" Theo frowned.

"No, dear, it isn't." Molly laughed again. "It's about my decision to move to Miami before I knew I was pregnant with you."

"What was your reason, then?" Theo asked, curiously.

Molly let out a giggle. "Well, I was tired of New York City after a month of living there, so I decided to move somewhere different. Then, I got it in my head that Miami would be a perfect place to forget your father because it is the polar opposite of London." She chuckled.

Theo watched his mother with an incredulous expression. "You moved here because its weather was different than London's?"

Molly nodded, smirking. "Indeed, my son. Do not judge me _too_ harshly. I was a heartbroken, 29-year-old woman with ex-girlfriend logic."

"What would you've done if you knew that you were pregnant with me in New York?" Theo asked.

Molly smiled ruefully at her son. "Probably would've gotten on the very next flight and flown back to London."

* * *

The anxiety set in she and Theo were about an hour into the flight. Molly had been surprisingly calm up until that moment; she even joked around with her son to keep the tension down. She knew that Theo put on a brave face, but he was also nervous about the possibility of meeting his dad. Theo did not know the reality of how his father was, and the last thing Molly wanted was for her son to discover how heartless _he_ could be when he set his mind to it. Molly was small and was still affected by _him, _but she had a mama-bear in her, and she knew that she could be vicious when she wanted to be.

Since Courtney had asked Molly to go to London with her, Molly's tough facade had broken to the ones who saw her on a day to day basis. She looked like a cold woman to the outside world, but she was actually terrified of what would happen if she actually met _him_ in the flesh. She hadn't seen him in almost fifteen years, and she was not looking forward to the next time when she would run into him.

She sat next to the window seat on the plane at the request of her son. Theo didn't want to look down and see the world so far below him. It was a strange feeling, but Molly couldn't help but feel a little relieved that her son still had fears. Call it a mother thing, but it was nice to still feel needed. She had smiled kindly and agreed to sit next to the window, even though she herself didn't especially like it either.

They both sat with backs stiff as the plane took off, clutching the others hand as if their life depended on it. Theo had inherited her fear of flying, and Molly was too focused on not throwing up to comfort him. Things became easier when they were traveling steadily in the air. They'd talked quietly back and forth, and Molly felt herself relax more and more...

Until her son fell asleep.

When Molly had been left to her own thoughts, she felt her nervousness come crashing down upon her. She hated that she allowed herself to worry about something that might not even happen, even if the odds were against her. She knew it was unlikely that _he_ had ever left London, but she still allowed herself a small hope that he might have left. Molly stared out the window, not letting her eyes drift to the ground, but straight ahead to stare at the pretty blue sky. She smiled when she realized that her son's eyes were sometimes this color.

To distract herself, Molly let her thoughts drift to her son. It was no secret to Molly that her son was well-sought after. He bore a slight accent like her, even though he'd never been out of the country, and he had inherited his father's good looks. Molly let herself claim some of the shy charm that her son could bring out when he spoke to girls, and he also had inherited her silky brown hair, even if it was curled like his father. Theo had never told her of a girlfriend either out of embarrassment or the lack of one, but she knew that he was definitely interested in girls. She was glad too; she didn't know what she would do if her son had inherited his father's asexualness, even if _he_ had given into temptation and finally lost his virginity to her - the mousy, Molly Hooper. Molly harbored the fear that her son would be like his father sexuality wise until he was thirteen and came to her asking how to talk to girls. She had been so relieved. Even though the thought of her son getting married made her quiver with fright, she always knew she wanted grandchildren. If she couldn't have a husband and more children, she could at least watch her son get married and have his own.

Molly dallied in the part of her mind that held her son for about thirty minutes, but as she neared London, the place that she sought to escape almost fifteen years earlier, she felt her mind focus on... _him_. She couldn't help it. As she came closer to where her son's father dwelt, her mind simply _refused_ to think about anything else. She remembered the early months of their actual romantic relationship, when everything had been great. Molly knew that when she agreed to _his_ awkward asking her out that it would have to end as some point, but she didn't expect to ever have sex with him. She then got lost in the thought of _him_ actually loving her, only to have her heart broken by him not even two months later. She forever cherished her short six months with him and never once had she wished that it hadn't happened since she found out she was pregnant with Theo, because, if it weren't for the heartbreak she suffered, she would not have her wonderful son.

* * *

"Mom... Mom... _MOM!"_

Molly jumped and was greeted by her sleep son touching her shoulder. "Oh, oh, Theo," she yawned, "w-what time is it?"

"Time to get off the plane, sleepyhead," Theo snipped playfully.

Molly stuck her tongue out at her son. "Hey, I lasted longest. You were out within the hour!"

"I was not!" Theo shot back, a smirk that looked like his father's plastered on his face. "At least I woke up _before_ the plane landed."

Molly looked at him with surprise. "The plane landed?"

"Yep, not even five minutes ago. I was expecting you to shoot awake, but, there you lied, sleeping like a baby." He paused before smiling with a grin that reminded Molly of her brother, Edward. "You even snored a little."

Molly blushed in spite of herself. "I do not _snore_."

Theo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Mom."

Molly and Theo collected their carry-on items relatively quickly and strode off the plane with ease. Molly prayed to God that they would be able to get to her old flat with little or no hazards. Molly never knew why, but she never sold her flat even though she had no intention of going back to London willingly. She didn't feel like apartment hunting, so she settled on hoping that neither _he_ or... John ever went looking at her old dwelling.

As they collected their suitcases, Molly frowned on how long it had been since she thought about Dr. John Watson. The last she'd heard, the older doctor had been married to a woman named Mary and was expecting a baby. That had been a year or two after Theo was born. Molly had cut off John when she had left London. She didn't want to have anything to do with _him_, but she still named her little boy after John, deciding that 'Theodore Hamish Hooper' didn't sound right but 'Theodore John Hooper' had a nice ring to it. Molly had always silently wished the doctor and his new wife well, but she'd never met the new Mrs. Watson in person.

"Why do you frown?" Theo asked curiously.

Molly glanced at her son and decided to be honest. "I was thinking about an old friend - John Watson to be exact."

Theo's eyebrows shot up with surprise. "The man you named me after?" He paused and added, "Well, at least my middle name."

Molly smiled and nodded. "Yes, John was a great man, and I couldn't help but name my little man after him."

Her son blushed, one that always reminded Molly of her own. "I am hardly _little__," _he retorted halfheartedly.

"Theo, you will always be my little Teddy," Molly teased.

Theo's embarrassed face turned into a glower. "Don't. Call. Me. _Teddy_," he said menacingly.

Molly laughed. "You used to _love_ it when I called you 'My Teddy Bear.'"

"Yeah," Theo agreed, "when I was _four_."

The Hoopers continued their little, playful arguments all the way to the flat, but both of them grew solemn when they stared at their home for the next two months.

"Is this it?" Theo asked quietly. "Is this the flat that you lived in before you moved to the States?"

Molly nodded, sighing softly. "Yes. Theodore, welcome to my old life."

* * *

A/N: Well, there was Part 2. Hope you enjoyed. You might meet John in the next couple chapters, but you will have to wait longer for _him_. I'm not ready to write _him_, and I don't think Theo or Molly are ready to face him, but you will get _him _eventually. Read and review! xoxo Carly


	3. Part 3

**PART 3**

* * *

_Molly and Theo spent the next several hours putting together their new home._ Molly had left all her furniture from before in her flat, so finding a couch and television stand was not hard. Molly had ordered a bedroom set for her son before they'd arrived in London after her and Theo had a conversation about how he would like to stay in London every summer after this on. Molly had agreed, having missed her old home, and placed the order that day. The two had spent the day surveying the furniture men as they moved the new, necessary furniture into the flat.

After the workers left, Molly and Theo went to the deli and had sandwiches before going shopping for food and toiletries. Molly didn't know how they managed it, but they always managed to have fun doing the silliest things. They talked of what Theo could and could not do while Molly was working at Barts', what Molly's work schedule was, what time Theo's curfew was, and how they planned on celebrating Theo's birthday. It was June 11, and Theo was born on July 30 at two in the afternoon.

Molly always teased her son about the date and time of his birth. It had been over 100 degrees that July afternoon, and Molly had to endure the heat, the humidity, _and_ the labor pains while she was giving to Theo all by herself. Of course, the moment Molly saw her baby boy all her complaints about the heat and the pain went away. Her baby was absolutely perfect, and she'd given birth to him without any help from anyone but the nurses and the doctor. Her brother, Edward, and his wife, Sarah, had come to see her the day before they discharged her and Baby Theo from the hospital, and Molly had been a happy single mother ever since.

Theo would always blush and mutter something about how he couldn't help that he was born on such a hot day.

While out shopping, Molly found a plaque with the words '_HOOPER HOME'_ on it, and Theo's eyes lit up when he saw it. He gave her his best puppy dog look, and she found herself buying the plaque along with two cartons of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia because of her son. Theo had a triumphant smirk on his face the whole way home.

When it had been time for bed, Molly and Theo whipped out their new toothbrushes and huddled in the one bathroom of the flat, seeing who could brush the fastest. Molly won, even though her son claimed that he let her win. Molly gave her son a kiss goodnight and padded out of the bathroom and into her old living room.

She sat on her flowery sofa, staring at the large print with disgust. Why she ever thought this sofa was cute was beyond her. She giggled when she thought of her son's expression when he'd witnessed the horror of her 29-year-old self's furniture choices. He'd shaken his head with a "I don't want to know" and had gone to check out his room.

_Oh, the joys of having a child,_ Molly thought, thinking fondly of her son.

Molly called Courtney, who had bought a flat closer to the middle of town, and asked how she had been settled. Courtney and Molly made small talk for the first few minutes of the phone call. They eventually both grew tired of the pleasantries and talked of work and the schedule. Molly was grateful when Courtney said that they were both allowed a week to settle into their new homes before they had to report to Bart's. It'd taken some courage, but Molly asked Courtney if the younger woman had heard any news of a man named... 'Sherlock Holmes' while speaking to the head mortician, but Courtney denied hearing anything. Molly sighed, letting her hope become a little bigger that maybe... Sherlock had left London in boredom. It was becoming easier to say his name, but it still left a dull ache in her heart.

She hung up the phone with Courtney a few minutes later and spared a glance at the clock. It was almost midnight. Molly sighed, thinking about the days when she would work at Bart's well into the night. Those days were over however; she had a son to take care of. Molly had made an agreement with Courtney, saying that she would not take any night shifts or calls while she was in England, half because she did not feel comfortable leaving her son in an environment he didn't know and half because that would bring back memories that Molly didn't want.

She turned off the lights in the living room and kitchen and climbed the stairs of her flat and went to her old bedroom. Molly hadn't entered her old room since being in her flat, and she sucked in a painful breath as she looked around her old room. It was decidedly feminine, as Molly still was, but she didn't care about that. She stared at the bed. That had been the very bed that her son had been conceived in. When she flicked off the lights and climbed into it, she let the tears fall until she was sobbing silently.

_This is the last time you will cry over him, Margaret Anne Hooper,_ she commanded to herself.

Molly fell asleep with tears on her cheeks.

* * *

She woke to the smell of eggs and bacon. She smiled when she heard her son humming to himself downstairs. She grabbed for her dressing gown, an English habit that she could never seem to drop, and went into the bathroom. She had tear stains on her cheeks, which Molly washed away. She knew that Theo would be upset if he knew she'd been crying. She brushed her teeth again, used the loo, and walked downstairs with a fresh smile and a happy disposition.

"Morning, Mom!" Theo greeted cheerily. It seemed that Molly wasn't the only one in a good mood.

"G'morning, my dear," Molly said, walking over to her son. She stood on her tip toes to kiss his cheek and then surveyed the cooking food on the stove. "Looks good, Theo." She looked at him playfully. "You must have been taught to cook by an extremely good chef."

Theo laughed loudly, catching his mother's drift. "Well, I did learn from the best," he replied, bumping his mom with his hip. "But, no matter how good I can make bacon and eggs, I cannot make the best French-Pressed Coffee."

Molly chuckled. "Yes, save that for the master."

Theo bowed sarcastically at his mom. "Yes, Master Margaret."

"Hey," Molly said sharply. Theo stilled, turning to his mother with a worried expression. Molly glared at him, trying to suppress the grin that was threatening to break through. "It's _Mistress Mother_ to you."

Theo guffawed at his mother's lameness. "Okay, whatever, _Mom_."

* * *

The two ate breakfast and drank their coffee before deciding they were going to go sight-seeing. Theo offered to get in the shower first, and Molly had been grateful for the quiet. She needed to think. Molly knew that John and... Sherlock would recognize her if they saw her, but she knew that it would take them longer to figure out who Theo was. Even though Theo was only fourteen, he could easily pass for a man. Molly decided if she saw John that she would make no attempt to escape the conversation of who Theo was, but, if she saw Sherlock, she would grab her son out of self-preservation and book the hell out of there.

Molly laughed at the thought of Sherlock's shocked expression at seeing her flee from him. She knew that he would no doubt pursue her, but she wanted to make sure he wouldn't catch her until her son was safely locked in her old flat before she would talk to Sherlock. The last thing she needed was for Theo to find out who is father was while out on a day on the town. It was listed in the _Book of Things Molly Hooper Never Wanted to Deal With_.

Theo took long showers, so Molly thought more on escape roots and tactics until her son emerged from the steamy bathroom, calling her name to tell her he was done before pounding up the stairs and into his room in nothing more than a towel around his hips. _He is such a poor planner,_ Molly thought to herself. She went to her room, grabbed her necessities, and departed to the bathroom. Her shower was quick and speedy. She didn't like shriveling up into a wrinkly prune like her son did.

She dressed just as fast and opened the door to let out the steam. She blow dried her hair and walked out of the bathroom, completely ready, to find her son sitting on the flowery sofa playing on his smart phone that she'd bought the both of them. She winced when she saw the flower sofa in the daylight. _I really need a new couch,_ she thought to herself.

Theo looked up at her and smiled. "You ready?" he asked, pocketing his phone.

Molly nodded. "Yep!" _Ready as I'll ever be,_ she added dryly in her mind. She grabbed her phone and purse and silently prayed to God that she would not run into anyone unexpected.

* * *

She started with the zoo. Theo had loved the zoo when he was little, and she was ecstatic that he still got that giddy look in his eyes when she'd told him where they would go. He was practically bouncing in his seat, just like he'd done when he was a little, seven-year-old boy. Molly reminisced in silence as her son as a little boy. Theo had been such a good boy; all the mothers of Theo's little friends always told Molly how polite her son had been. Molly knew from the moment she discovered she was pregnant with a son that he would be brought up knowing his manners. The world did not need a Sherlock II running around causing havoc and mayhem.

When they reached the zoo, Molly let her son drag her around. It was a nice, sunny day - not too hot and not too cold - and Molly decided that she wouldn't mind spending the whole day at the zoo. After all, she and Theo had six more days to see the actual city. The Hooper two marveled at the series of animals that they'd seen. Molly had gripped her son's arm in the reptile house, and he'd just smirked, being a good son and not saying anything about his mother's fear of the reptiles. It didn't matter than Molly cut open dead people; lizards gave her the creeps.

It had been around five o'clock when Theo's stomach growled loudly. They both laughed with each other, the other's laughs infectious, and decided that their day at the zoo had ended. Molly, hungry and thirsty, couldn't help but notice that her body was tired. She didn't know if it was from age or from worrying about meeting someone unexpected, but all she knew was that she would sleep soundly that night.

Her and Theo decided that Chinese takeaway was the way to go. The cab dropped them off at their flat, the _'HOOPER HOME' _plaque on the door shining brightly in the sunset, and Molly went inside to change into warmer clothing before leaving.

"Okay, I'm going," Molly yelled to her son up the stairs.

Theo's door opened and his curly mop popped out. "'Kay, Mom!"

Molly sighed, the nervousness getting to her. "Keep your cell near you at all times and do not - I repeat - do _NOT_ open the door for anyone but me, do you understand."

Her son rolled his eyes. "Duh."

"Theodore," she said warningly.

"Yes, Mother."

Molly smiled. "Good boy. Be back in about 25."

Without another word, Molly opened the front door and made her way to Chinese takeaway.

* * *

"Your total will be £25, ma'am," the cashier told her.

Molly handed over the money, smiling politely at the pretty, Asian woman manning the register who was staring at Molly curiously because of her American accent. She waited patiently for her receipt and walked to the nearest empty table near the door and proceeded to wait for her food.

Molly was in the process of playing Sudoku on her phone when a familiar voice broke threw her wall of concentration.

"Two things of fried rice, please," the voice said.

Molly had her back to the register, so she couldn't tell for sure. She ducked her head, putting her face closer to her smart phone in the hopes of the voice not recognizing her. She so, _so_, _SO_ didn't need this right now. She had a child at home, and she didn't feel like dealing with an old friend right now._  
_

But it was too late. God must have hated her, because soon there was a startled gasp. "_M-Molly? Molly HOOPER?"_

Molly took a deep breath, preparing herself. She turned around and faced the old friend with a small smile. "Hello, John."

* * *

A/N: DUN DUN DUNNNNNN. HI JAWN! I wonder what will happen next! Well, I don't have to wonder, because, ya know, I write these things. Anyway, read and review! xoxo Carly


	4. Part 4

**PART 4**

* * *

_John just stared at her, his mouth hanging open._ Molly didn't know what to do, so she opted to stare at her feet until her old friend said something. She hoped he hurried it up, because Theo would be texting her, worried if she was okay.

She took this opportunity to examine John while his mouth remained shut. He definitely looked older, but Molly didn't doubt she looked quite a bit older as well. His blonde hair looked grayer, his face carried more wrinkles, and John'd gained some weight. It wasn't extremely noticeable, but Molly could tell that John was past his prime and on his way to his middle years.

It took John a full five minutes to finally close his mouth and rub his neck, staring at Molly. "I-I haven't seen you in here a while. Did you move to a different part of London?"

Molly couldn't contain the laugh that bubbled through. "Oh, John, I guess Lestrade didn't tell you," Molly said when the doctor stared at her with wide eyes. "I moved out of London."

John nodded, and his eyes widened even further. "So what part of England then?"

Molly shook her head. "Um, John, I moved out of _England_. I've been living in the States for the past fifteen years."

"T-the _States?_" John squeaked, sounding comically like Molly before she left England.

Molly let out another small laugh. "Yes, John, the States. I'm back here with a co-worker for a case that involves a man in London." Molly worded her sentence carefully, not betraying anything about Theo. "I'm here the whole summer."

John nodded, seemingly still in shock. "Ah," he replied, his voice a little strangled.

The doctor was turning a strange red color, and Molly couldn't help but look at him worriedly. "John, maybe you should sit down," Molly suggested.

The doctor looked at her with a bewildered expression. "Y-yes. I should. Sit, I mean. I-I'll just sit now, thank you." John plopped down in the seat across from her.

Molly suppressed the small smile that threatened to break through. John didn't look like he was in any condition to talk to her yet, so Molly pulled out her phone and sent a text to Theo.

_Gonna be a little later than I thought. x Mom_

Not even a second later her phone shot off. _Okay, old acquaintance? -TH_

Molly smiled brightly at her phone; her son was so smart it was scary sometimes, but she supposed it shouldn't surprise her. After all, he was half Sherlock.

_Yes, dear. Not your father but John. He seems a little shocked to see me at Chinese takeaway. Make a sandwich; I don't know how long this will take. x Mom_

This reply took a little longer, and Molly knew Theo was debating whether or not to ask her to come home. The reply came soon enough, and Molly opened up the text quickly.

_Okay, be safe and be strong. Love you. -TH_

Molly smiled wider and could not help but chuckle at her son's worry.

_I will, I promise. Love you too. x Mom_

Molly looked up to see John staring at her curiously. She pocketed her phone quickly and folded her hands in front of her.

John cleared his throat, and Molly worried for a second that he was going to ask who that was. "So..." he started, "are you still in your old flat?"

Molly felt the tension in her body cease. She sighed and silently thanked John for dropping it. "Yes. I never sold it when I went to the States, so it was easy to ease back into it."

John smiled softly. "That's good. So you're here for a case? Which one?"

"The one of Ian and Tabitha Thornton and Tabitha's brother, Michael. It was a triple-homicide, and we think that Tabitha's ex-boyfriend, Terry Nicholas, is a strong suspect. He has a history of violence, and Tabitha and Terry didn't end on good terms. It's still very up in the air, and I was brought by the head of my unit, Courtney Brown, at her request."

John nodded, earnestly interested. "Are you still working at Bart's?" Molly nodded. John made every situation comfortable, and Molly couldn't help but like the familiar conversation. "When do you start?"

"In a week. It was at my request, so Theo and I could settle in before I go back to work and leave him to his own devices..." Molly's eyes widened, along with John's, as she realized that she'd brought up the one thing she wasn't supposed to. _Great going, Molls,_ her mind thought, rolling its eyes.

"Theo?" John questioned. "You're husband?" Molly shook her head no. "Boyfriend?" Another no. "Flatmate?" Denied again. "Co-worker?" Nada. "I give up!" John said. "Who is it?"

"John, Theo is my son..." John's mouth fell open comically, and Molly couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Not what you were expecting, now was it?"

John stared at her, shaking his head. "W-wait, your so- So you're a mum?"

"Yes."

"An actual mum?"

"Yes, John."

"To a child?"

"No, to a dog."

"No need to be hurtful, but a mum?"

Molly sighed. "You're obviously in shock, so I will wait until you are lucid."

John nodded. "Yes, that's fine... but a _mum._ Lord, Molly, why isn't your husband with you and Theo?"

Molly looked at the ground; _this_ was part of the conversation she didn't want to talk about. "Because I don't have one..." Molly replied softly.

John stared at her, eyes wide. "Oh, Molly, I'm sorry. I didn't know you and him..."

Molly cut off her old friend. "We were never married, and, no, he didn't die, no, he didn't disappear, and, no, he didn't leave me and Theo. In fact, I was long gone, out of the country, before I knew I was pregnant with Theo."

John nodded. "Ah, I see... I think." Molly let her sentence sink in. Faintly, she heard the cashier call her and John's name. She grabbed both of their takeaway, placing John's in front of him and hers in front of her.

Molly was in the middle of opening her food when John suddenly gasped. _He must have figured it out, then,_ Molly thought. She took a deep breath - something she had been doing a lot lately - and looked up to see John staring at her with tears in his eyes. "The... the father is... _him_?"

Molly nodded and went back to unpacking her food. It smelled delicious, and she knew that she would have to make it up to Theo that he didn't get any, though he had the Cherry Garcia all to himself...

"Molly, look at me!"

Molly jumped, startled at John's tone. She stared at him, her eyes wide. "John?" she asked, fear entering her eyes at John's horrified expression.

"You're son is half Sherlock Holmes?" John asked, his voice slightly pitchy.

If it had been a different situation, Molly would've laughed at John's cracking voice, but she sat frozen at his reaction. "Y-yes, John. My son is half-Sherlock."

John sat back in his seat, not taking his eyes off Molly. He stared at her with a faraway look in his eyes, and Molly shifted uncomfortably under her old friend's gaze. She stared at her food, waiting for John to say something.

The next few minutes were _beyond_ awkward. Molly sat there, feeling incredibly mousy - a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time - and skittish. She waited for John to speak and grew irritable when he didn't say anything. She finally lost her control. "Well, at least say something!" she snapped.

The doctor looked at her in surprise; this was not the Molly he was used to. "I-I honestly don't _know_ what to say, Molly. I mean, you are raising Sherlock's own flesh and blood and that bastard didn't even tell me..."

Molly immediately understood what John was saying. She shook her head violently at him. "No, John, this... this is important information. You are the first person from my life here in England, other than my brother, Edward, to know that Theo even exists."

John stared at her. "Y-you mean, _Sherlock doesn't know he's fathered a child?"_

Molly nodded, and John looked at her disapprovingly. Molly frowned. "What was I supposed to do, John?"

"Tell Sherlock," John said pointedly.

Molly glared at her old friend. "And what, John? Have him freak out on an over-emotional pregnant woman whose heart he broke? No thank you! I was already scared out of my mind at the thought of raising a child, and _Sherlock's_ son at that," Molly retorted hotly.

John crossed his arms. "You could have at least called _me__!_" he replied. "I would've helped-"

Molly cut him off with her hand. "Honestly, John, I wonder if you think I'm a simpleton." _Simpleton,_ her mind thought wonderingly,_ I haven't said that word... well, in fifteen years._ "At the time, you were a _direct_ line to the very man I wanted to avoid. If I would have told you back then, we both know that you would have gone running to Sherlock."

John opened his mouth to disagree but stopped short. He dropped his gaze in defeat and replied, "Probably."

Molly nodded. "I wanted to tell you, John. I really did, but I didn't - well, honestly, I _don't -_ want Sherlock to find out about Theo. I'm not ready to face him, and neither is my son, no matter how brave a face he puts on. We are both scared of him."

John looked at her, his eyes sad. "You're afraid of Sherlock?"

Molly looked down and nodded. "He left me flat out on my arse when I told him I loved him, John," she whispered quietly. "And those were just words. How would he react when there was an actual person - a _part_ of him no less - involved."

"Not well," John nodded.

"Exactly," Molly agreed. "Unless I happen to run into Sherlock and I have Theo with me, I am not planning on telling him until the end of the summer. So, if he reacts badly-"

"He can't hurt Theo," John finished for her.

Molly nodded and looked to her friend, his expression unreadable. "You don't hate me, do you, John?"

John shook his head. "No, Molly, I could never hate you. I hated Sherlock for a while for making you leave, but I do wish that you told me about Theo... maybe not right then, but at least at some point."

Molly smiled. "I'm telling you now," she pointed out.

"I suppose so." John started to open his food, and Molly continued eating hers. It was silent for the rest of the evening, and John was kind enough to throw away Molly's trash. Molly kept a box of fried rice, knowing that Theo would forgive her quickly if she brought home food.

John walked her out of the store and down the street. As they walked, he asked her questions about her life in the States, how she liked it there, if she liked her new job, and so on. Molly knew he was beating around the bush and waited patiently until he finally asked, "So, how old is Theo?"

"He's going to be fifteen in July," Molly replied softly.

"Jesus Christ, _fifteen?_" John repeated incredulously. "I can't believe Sherlock's child is a teenager."

Molly laughed. "He's my son too, you know! How would _you _feel if you had a teenager?"

John smirked at Molly. "I _do_ have a teenager."

Molly gasped. "W-what?"

"Yep," John said, pulling out his wallet. There was a picture of a beautiful girl with bright blonde hair and kind green eyes. "This is Allison, my eldest daughter."

Molly took the picture from her friend. "Oh, John, she's beautiful. How old is she?"

"The ripe young age of fourteen," John stated proudly.

"You made me feel old!" Molly accused playfully.

John laughed. "Well, Molly, you're in your forties, and I'm in my mid fifties. There's a ten-year age gap between us."

"Okay, I'll give you that, John," Molly replied, laughing along with her friend. It felt good to have fun with another adult. "I'll give you that."

Molly flagged down a cab and turned to John. "I'll be at Bart's in a week, so come meet me there, and we can exchange numbers. I would stay longer, but I can feel my phone vibrating off the hook. Theo's worried."

John smiled softly at Molly. "I'll make sure to bring Mary; she'll want to meet you."

"I would like that."

"Nice to see you, Molly Hooper," John said, opening the cab door.

"You, too, John Watson. You too."

* * *

A/N: Well, there's John! It will be a couple more chapters until we meet Sherlock, so stay tuned! I would appreciate your thoughts on Theo, if I should teenage him up a bit or let him stay the way he is. Anyone else thing that Allison and Theo might hit it off? *hint, hint* Read and review! xoxo Carly


	5. Part 5

**PART 5**

* * *

_Molly stared at the intimidating doors of St. Bart's, trying to calm her erratic heart._ The week that she'd been given flew by so fast that Molly could scarcely believe that she stood in front of the very place where she'd last seen Sherlock in the flesh. It scared her to no end at the endless string of possible situations that could arise when she walked through those doors. Molly didn't want to think that in a matter of seconds she could run into the father of her son.

"Theo," Molly whispered softly. Her son was as worried as she was about her first day. He'd made her breakfast in the morning, claiming that he made too much for himself. Molly knew that wasn't the case; seldom did her son not overeat. She often wondered how he kept his form. He was slim but not too skinny. She found it humorous that Theo'd inherited her appetite, but Sherlock's ability to keep thin. Leave it to her son to get only the good genes.

She smiled when she remembered the night when she'd seen John for the first time at the Chinese takeaway, and Theo's reaction when she got home. Her son's concern had been so endearing that Molly could not help but smile.

* * *

_The moment Molly reached in her bag to get out her keys, the door flung open. There stood her son, his curly brown mop hanging around his face and his eyes, mostly green at the moment, were wild with a mixture of concern, curiosity, and hunger._

_Molly laughed when she saw that he was panting, as if he ran from his room to the door. "Jeez, Theo, you sound like you've run a marathon!" she said casually, walking in. Theo stepped to the side to let her hang her purse on the peg near the door and put her keys on the key-ring next to it, but he stayed within touching distance._

_She walked into the kitchen, placing the takeaway bag into the fridge, and turned to face her son, who was standing in the doorway of the room uncertainly. Before she spoke, she simply looked at her boy. He had Sherlock's eyes, her nose and hair with his father's curls, and Sherlock's cheek bones and smile. He had some faint freckles on his face from his childhood, and a tiny chip on his from tooth from when he fell at school when he was nine. His physique matched that of his father's - tall, slender, and thin. She knew that her son had a light cording of muscles on his chest, arms, and legs._

_Theo Hooper dressed in what he claimed to be in a 'hipster fashion,' whatever that meant. His wardrobe was always well put together, something that Molly couldn't claim to have given him. That was purely Sherlock. Molly'd gotten better with her clothes. After she'd lost the baby weight when Theo was a few years old, Molly traded her baggy jumpers and trousers for slim-shirts and pencil skirts. She pulled her hair back into a high ponytail and bumped her bangs atop her head to give her hair some dimension. She started to wear make-up as well - eyeliner, mascara, foundation, and lip gloss. Not too much, but enough to enhance her natural features and beauty._

_Her son interrupted her inner-monologue with an impatient huff. "Well, when am I going to meet John?" he demanded._

_"Soon enough. He is still a little shocked, Theo, so we will have to give him sometime," Molly replied steadily, trying to soothe her irritable son. Sherlock had passed down his ability to be an annoyed ass to his son, even if it had be inadvertently._

_Theo nodded and started to pace up and down the hallway. Molly leaned against the counter, crossing her arms in amusement, as she watched her son walk pass the doorway every so often. _Definitely a Sherlockian trait,_ her mind thought, amused._

_Molly and Theo sat in silence; rather Molly sat. Theo continued his track up and down the hall until he stopped, walking into the kitchen to stand in the middle of it. Molly looked at her son expectantly. "Yes?" she asked finally after he'd been staring at her for a good ten minutes._

_Theo's demeanor changed entirely at the sound of his mother's voice. His hard expression softened until his fear was plainly written on his face and his shoulders slouched. "Is John going to tell my father?" he asked quietly, staring at his feet._

_Molly felt her heart lurch at the sight of her son's fear. She stood up, immediately walking towards her son. When she reached him, her hand rose to lift his face slightly to look at hers. She placed her hand on his chest and padded it comfortingly. Molly realized with surprise that this gesture was similar to the one she'd performed on Sherlock before they'd started dating when John had been placed in the hospital after he'd been shot in the leg. Sherlock had been beside himself that night, and Molly offered what her words could not - comfort._

_She ignored the urge to pull her hand away. This wasn't Sherlock; this was her son - a son that was obviously scared of his father finding out his existence. Molly felt a burning anger at Sherlock and at herself for putting their child in this situation. Sherlock may not have discovered that he was a father to a living and breathing human, but Molly knew perfectly well. After all, she'd been raising him for fifteen years._

_"No, dear," Molly whispered to her son. She ran her fingers up the side of her son's face and into his curly hair. Molly marveled vaguely about how her son managed to have curly _and_ silky hair all at once. Sherlock's hair had been course, rougher than Theo's. "John will not tell your father; he agreed that I should be the one to tell him, since I am the woman who bore his child."_

_Theo nodded softly, not taking his eyes off the floor. Molly was about to pull away from her son when Theo unexpectedly grabbed her into a rough hug, burying his facing into her shoulder. It was an awkward position because Molly was quite a bit shorter than her six foot two son, but she wrapped her arms around him without hesitation. Theo was breathing hard, obviously needing comfort from his mother._

_They stood there hugging for a while before Molly pulled away. She grabbed her son's hand and led him to a chair. She sat him down and proceeded to warm up the leftover Chinese._

_"I don't know his name," Theo whispered suddenly as Molly placed the food onto a plate._

_She paused and turned to look at him. "Whose?"_

_Theo watched his mother's face carefully. "My father's... I-I don't know his name."_

_Molly looked at the plate of cold food in front of her; it never occurred to her that she'd never told Theo was his father's name was. She took a deep breath before whispering, "Sherlock - his name was Sherlock."_

_"Sherlock what?" Theo asked._

_Without turning to look at her son, she replied, "Sherlock Holmes - Sherlock Holmes is your father."_

* * *

She snapped back from the memory. Everything after that had been unpleasant for her. She'd microwaved Theo some food before sprinting to her room to let the tears fall. She'd never fully admitted to anyone the way she'd done to Theo that Sherlock Holmes was the father of her son. It unnerved her, and she didn't know what to feel. Theo hadn't mentioned a word of his father the rest of the week they'd spent together, but he made a visible effort to look around at the crowds of people more closely when they went sightseeing.

Molly breathed in deeply through her nose, steeling herself for whatever lied in front of her, and walked into the morgue with the bravest face she could manage. It had been so long since she'd been in her old morgue, but as she walked through the doors, she realized that she had never felt more relaxed. Her morgue still looked the same as she had left in all those years ago, when Theo, who had yet to be discovered, was barely the size of a grain of rice inside of her.

"Hey!" a voice said behind her. Molly turned to see Courtney Brown coming towards her with a smile.

Molly returned the smile warmly. "Hey, Courtney," Molly greeted. It was still awkward to call the head detective of her unit by her given name. Molly tried whenever she had the time to remember to call the younger woman Courtney in her mind, but Molly still found her mouth wanted to call her 'Ms. Brown.'

"Nice to see you," Courtney replied softly. "I hope you and Theo enjoyed the week to yourselves."

Courtney's voice plainly held a question, and Molly smiled warmly. "Yes, we both had a good time. Though, I must admit that it is nerve-wracking to leave him alone at the flat."

"I understand, Molly," Courtney said kindly. She paused. "Well, I don't _truly_ understand, as I don't have a child, but I get the logic."

Molly nodded. "It's funny that Theodore is almost fifteen, and I still find it in myself to worry about him."

"That's a mother's job, Molly."

"I know, Courtney; it's not that I don't trust my son - I do, more than most mothers, I'm proud to say. It's just..." Molly trailed off. She didn't want to leave her son alone because of the fear of Sherlock going to her flat and finding him. The thought of Theo facing his father on his own made her stomach twist in anxiety.

"You don't want the father to find him, do you?" Courtney whispered softly.

Molly jerked in surprise, her eyes wide. "H-how did you know?"

Courtney smiled triumphantly. "So I am right?"

Molly frowned. She remembered vaguely about how her son had pulled that one over her as well. "I have to learn to quit doing that," she muttered to herself before turning to Courtney, whose eyes were shining in triumphant. "Y-yes, I am not particularly fond of the idea that Theo might have to face him on his own."

"Does his father know where you guys live?"

Molly nodded sharply. "Sadly, yes. I used to live here before, and I lived in that exact flat. In fact, that flat was where..." Molly's cheeks reddened. It hadn't occurred to her that Theo was actually _conceived_ in that flat.

_Ew,_ Molly thought, _Theo was actually lying on the actual couch where it happened when I left him this morning._ She made a mental note to definitely get a new couch. The thought of her son sleeping on the couch where she and Sherlock... multiple times... the thought was now worth finishing.

Courtney's eyes widened, but, thankfully, didn't ask Molly to elaborate on the subject, something Molly couldn't be more grateful for. That was the last conversation she wanted to have with anyone, especially Courtney. "Ah, anyway," Courtney said awkwardly, "we start working today."

"Yes," Molly said excitedly, "what do I need to do first?"

"Well, we had all of the victims' medical records from Miami transported here, and we have a couple other corpses for you to analyze. It appears that our suspect is killing more than just passed lovers."

Molly shivered. "Sick people deserve to be caught and thrown in prison." She headed towards her counter, grabbing a pair of gloves. "Let's begin shall we?"

Courtney's face turned white. "I-I think I'll just go ahead and leave. I have other work to attend you, and I would get in your way."

Molly knew what that translated to: _I don't want to throw up on you, so I am going to leave before I do something stupid._

"Okay, Courtney," she replied, "see you later. Text me if you have a lead."

"'Kay!" Courtney was already headed out the door, and then Molly was left alone.

Molly looked around the morgue and smiled widely. "It's good to be back."

She worked the rest of her day with a small, content smile on her face.

* * *

The man was annoyed. No, annoyed was not a proper way to convey his thoughts. His irritation grew when he could not find the proper word to adequately describe what he was feeling. John'd avoided him more than usual this entire week, and he couldn't understand why the doctor would attempt to hide a secret from him.

There was the man's entire problem - he did not know what his friend kept hidden from him. He hated not knowing things, and the fact that John Watson, a man who could barely keep his own secrets out from the man's nose, was somehow in possession of a bit of information that he was in the utter dark about.

He was going to put a stop to it. John told the man some weeks earlier that he planned on working at the Bart's, warning him in advance to keep away. Even though John never flat out asked, the older doctor knew that his friend wanted to avoid Bart's at all costs. It had too many... unpleasant memories about a certain woman that the man would rather avoid. He would never admit, but the man did feel sorry for treating the woman the way he'd done. But she was long gone. However, her memories lingered in his mind palace.

But this matter was a different one entirely. John would spill the secret easier if the man caught him off guard, and that was exactly what he intended to do.

As he walked down the street, his coat flapping behind him, he found himself stopping at an intersection, looking down the lane towards the flat of the woman whose heart he'd ripped to shreds some years earlier. The man didn't remember how long... well, more like he _chose _not to remember. It was easier to shut out that part of his life than to face it. Those six months were hidden deep within his mind palace, gathering dust as they remained untouched.

He did not know what possessed him to check on her old flat today of all days, but he decided he would run a quick check to make sure it wasn't being vandalized.

He walked quickly, hoping no one would catch him there. The man felt odd about walking by his old... lover's house. A feeling that he couldn't quite identify rushed through him, and he frowned at the feeling. As he walked the street, he came upon the old, two-story flat.

It looked... different.

The grass looked freshly mowed, and the plants watered. _Curious,_ he thought, _maybe this is what John has been keeping from me. Though I do not understand why. Why should I care if someone moved into M- her old flat._

He studied the house curiously, trying to pick up a name of the new family that lived there, while hiding in the neighbor's bushes when he froze. There, up on the door, was a plaque mounted to the wall. _THE HOOPER HOME._ The man had never noticed a plaque there before, and he knew without a doubt that he would've remembered if the house possessed one. The plaque looked freshly bought as well; there was no sign of wear from the weather.

A situation crept into this mind, and the man shook his head. "No," he mumbled to himself, "it can't be. She can't be back _here_. She left."

Then, the door jam started to jingle. Sherlock hid deeper into the bushes across the street, watching the door curiously. Could it be possible that a family with the same name as the former be living there? He watched as the door opened to reveal a tall man walking out. No, not a man - a teenager no older than sixteen. His hair was light brown and curly, settling around his face haphazardly. He was tall, almost as tall as the man himself, with a slim body and slender fingers. His face pointed downwards, and the man huffed quietly in frustration when he couldn't make out any features.

The teenager held an old newspaper in his hand and strolled towards the recycling bin. The boy tossed the newspaper in carelessly. The boy looked up and surveyed the quiet street. The man's breath caught in his throat when the boy's gaze landed directly on him. The boy's eyes widened, and Sherlock felt a jolt within him.

Those eyes were so familiar. Those eyes were... those eyes were _his_. The man felt as if he was looking at his own reflection. The boy had high cheekbones, his eyes, his lips, but the boy's nose... no, that was no his nose. That was - that was... that was Molly's nose.

_This... this doens't make sense,_ the man stuttered in his mind.

The boy gasped, a fearful expression appearing on his face. The man's heart stumbled in his chest when he realized that expression was the same expression that... Molly wore when he'd told her that he didn't love her.

Before Sherlock could do anything, the boy whipped around and fled back into the house at an alarming speed. Sherlock stared at the house for another four minutes before whipping out his cell phone. He dialed a number without even glancing at the keypad, his eyes never leaving the house.

There was only one logical explanation, but how? They'd used protection. Sherlock made sure that he'd never gone without anything...

He put the phone to his ear and the line picked up. "'Lo, Sherlock," an irritated voice picked up, "what do you want?"

"John," Sherlock said cautiously, "I think I have a son."

* * *

A/N: WOAH, SHIT JUST GOT REAL. Read and review! I don't know how I'm going to work this update thing, but I'll just say I'm going to update every Monday and every Thursday because a week is too long to wait. I am whipping these babies out no problem. LOL. Leave your thoughts! I enjoy them!

PS: BIG thanks to all my reviewers, followers, favoriters, etc. so far! I appreciate every single one of them and read every single one!


	6. Part 6

**PART 6**

* * *

_Theo was bored._ It was worse than just simple boredom; it was more of an ache to be entertained. He'd known that it was inevitable, that somehow he would eventually end up bored out of his mind while his mother worked her shift, when he agreed to come to London with his mother.

It wasn't that Theo couldn't leave the flat. His mother had given him pretty much full reign of his life as long as he was home before she was, but London was an intimidating city. Theo just couldn't bring himself to leave the flat out of sheer fear. He would _never_ let his mother know that, though. He would either be teased endlessly about his fear, or she would cling to him and refuse to let go.

Theo snorted at the thought of his mother as he ate his sandwich in the kitchen. Molly Hooper was a curious woman. He didn't know how many other women could deal with a teenaged boy with such ease as his mother. _Though, I suppose,_ Theo thought,_ she's had experience, raising me all by herself and all._

There was a hardening in his chest as Theo thought about his father - a man who singlehandedly affected both his and his mother's life inadvertently. Theo did not know what to think of his father. It was obvious to him that his mother loved and still loved his father very much, despite the fact that he'd done something so horrible that his mother'd chosen to leave England to escape him, and Theo did not like to entertain the thought of hating his father, a man that helped create him.

_I don't care if he is my father; he's still the biggest asshole in the history of assholes,_ Theo decided, taking another bite of his sandwich.

He let out an amused chuckle as he imagined his mother's face if Theo'd said that aloud if she was there. _"Theodore John Hooper!"_ she would say menacingly, _"what have I told you about cursing?"_

For a woman of her barely there height, she sure could be intimidating to a tall, young teenage boy. "There's Molly Hooper for you," Theo told the empty apartment. "Small but mighty."

Theo finished his sandwich in record time and wandered aimlessly into the family room. It was weird, thinking about his mother's life in this flat before him. It was obvious that her furniture was plain _awful_. What his mother ever saw in that flowery, pink couch was beyond Theo. He shook his head at the abomination and walked towards the bookshelves that covered the back wall. There was an array of genres, but it centered around these two catagories: romance and medical.

"That is the strangest combination in the history of the world," Theo told himself aloud.

He randomly picked a book off the shelf - a romance novel with a scantily dressed woman on the cover - and opened to a random page. Theo felt his cheeks turn hot as he started to read the passage.

_Emerald moaned into Charles' mouth. "Oh," she gasped, "please don't stop."_

_Charles let out a groan that made Emerald shiver; it was so powerful, so _masculine,_ that it seemed to overpower her. "Oh," he growled into her neck, his hands sliding up her legs, taking her tattered dress with them, "I will_ never_ stop."_

Theo snapped the book shut, not wanting to read more. The book's spine was worn down, so it was obvious that it was a favorite of his mother's. He shuttered at the thought. "So, younger-aged Mom read porn for fun?" he asked. "How utterly lovely."

He shoved the book into the shelf and turned to face the apartment, his boredom returning. "What to do, what to do?" he asked the open air. He looked out the window and out at the grass. It was in a desperate need of mowing.

_When in doubt, clean,_ a voice - one that sounded irritatingly like his mother's - spoke in his brain. Theo doubted that mowing the lawn was considered cleaning, but he smiled at the thought of his mother returning home to watered plants and freshly cut grass.

"Well, I know what I'm doing now."

It took Theo a good fifteen minutes to find where the mower was. It was ancient by his standards, and it took him another fifteen minutes to manuever it out of the shed in the back of the flat and to figure out how to turn it on. Theo smiled triumphantly when the mower started, and Theo got to work as quickly as possible.

He mowed meticulously, his true perfectionist shining through as he made sure the grass was even. It took a good long hour to get the lawn the way Theo wanted it, and when he finished, he put away the mower back into the shed, placing it in a spot that was easier to reach. He found an old hose in the shed as he moved items around. He took the hose, plugged into the faucet, and watered all the semi-dead plants.

By the time Theo finished, he was dog tired, sweaty, and hungry.

After munching on a packet of crisps, he took a long, hot shower, letting his tense muscles unwind. He stood in the shower for some time, contemplating his life along with his mother's. How would his father react? Would his father change the dynamic of his life? Would his mother_ want_ to go back to the States? Did _he_ want to go back to the States?

It was all so frustrating to Theo, who honestly had no idea what he felt. It was irritating that he still didn't understand his emotions. His mother always told him that it was a teenage thing, that every teenager - and most adults - never truly understood their emotions. Whenever she'd told him that, he always found it irritating that he couldn't understand something. To not understand was to be ignorant, and Theo was not interested in not knowing anything.

He finished his shower when his skin shriveled up, reminding him vaguely of prunes, and he walked into the living room, freshly dressed, with damp hair. He looked around the living room, checking to see if he could clean anything else up. He saw a pile of old newspapers lying in the corner. He sighed; his mother must of picked up everything and left as quickly as she could all those years ago. Theo picked up the whole pile easily - the pile only consisted of three or four newspapers - and went outside after jiggling the lock for some time.

"This damn thing," he muttered. He would have to get his mom to fix it some time.

He walked lazily to the recycling bin outside and dumped his load into it carelessly. He looked up, studying the area around him. It was a nice day, not nearly as sunny as it had been in Miami but warm enough to where he shivered with his wet hair. He was just about to go inside when something in the neighbor's bushes across the street caught his eye.

There, hiding in the brush, was a tall man. Theo froze, and he saw the man mimic his movements. The man had dark, curling brown hair that was flecked with strands of gray that Theo sometimes saw in his mother's hair (he'd never mentioned anything in the fear of losing his head to his mother's claws). He stood tall; Theo bet that the man was at least a couple inches taller than him. His gaze was intelligent and cunning and... cold. The man was watching Theo with...

Blue-green eyes. _His_ blue-green eyes.

_Oh, fuck me,_ Theo thought. _Holy shit, this... this can't _possibly_ be him._

But it was. Theo'd never met anyone else who anything close to his unusual, colorful eyes. Theo felt fear lance through him; what if this man - his father? - tried to speak with him.

His instincts kicked in, and Theo whirled around and ran straight back into his house, shutting the door with a boom and locking it swiftly. He sunk to the floor, tears threatening to spill over.

What was this man doing here? More importantly, _what did he want?_

* * *

"Molly?"

The woman in question looked up from her work in surprise to see John Watson staring at her with a large smile plastered on his face. Molly was just about to make the standard Y incision to the woman on her metal slab when she was interrupted by her friend. "John!" she replied brightly. "What brings you to Bart's?"

John dressed in a blue jumper and black slacks, a clipboard in hand. He wore glasses on the tip of his nose; his vision had been ailing even before Molly left, so it was no surprise to her that he'd finally invested in eyeglasses. "I am here to observe."

Molly raised a delicate brow. "Observe?"

The doctor smiled sheepishly. "I got a job at the local hospital about four months after you, er, left," he started, pausing awkwardly as he brought up Molly's leaving, "and have been working there ever since. Recently, I've gotten a promotion from head doctor to administration, and this morgue is apart of my unit."

"Oh, I understand now."

John cleared his throat. "Er, yes. Anywhoo, my supervisor sent me to observe you work because I needed to learn _this_ part of medicine."

Molly laughed. "Yes, the _dead_ part of medicine."

"Exactly," John chuckled. He stood in the doorway, hesitating to enter Molly's domain.

She smirked. "Well, come on in! You can't see from over there, and I won't bite!"

John smiled at her ruefully as he approached the metal slab. "What do we have here?" he asked curiously, looking at the cold, pale woman in front of his friend.

"They found her lying in her kitchen less than two hours ago," Molly replied. She put her scalpel to the dead flesh before looking towards John. She found him staring at the body wide-eyed. "Would you like to go in the other room while I do this part?" Molly asked, not moving from her place.

John shook his head firmly but audibly gulped. "N-no," he mumbled unsteadily, "I've just... well, I mean, I've _seen_ dead people, but I've never seen someone cut into one before."

Molly let out a giggle. "So, you don't mind that Sherlock keeps severed heads in his refrigerator - as far as I still know - but you _do_ mind me cutting into a corpse? Not to mention that you've actually _operated _on someone before!"

"Doesn't make much sense, right?" John sighed at his own silliness. "Guess that's how it works for me, no matter how stupid."

Molly sighed, feigning exasperation. "Oh, John, how does your wife handle you?"

"Mary manages me with great easy, thank you very much!" John retorted defensively.

She smiled. "I'm sure that she does." She drew her scalpel over the woman's body. "So, do tell me about this 'Mary.'"

* * *

John and Molly spent the next several hours catching up, Molly performing autopsy after autopsy while John sat in a chair near his friend. Every so often, John would take notes, but for the most part, it was just talk.

Molly would be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed that she missed so many things about John's life - his marriage to Mary Morstan-Watson, him moving out of the flat he shared with Sherlock (something Molly wished she'd seen), the birth of John's three children, and so on. It scared Molly how easily she could discuss Sherlock without stuttering, a feeling that she'd felt... well, never.

When she finished the last autopsy for the day, Molly allowed herself to sit next to John, focusing solely on the conversation. John had been in the middle of talking of a family vacation with Mary and his daughter that he'd spoken of before and two sons, twins named Eric and Tanner, when his phone rang.

John groaned when he looked at the number.

"Who is it?" Molly asked curiously.

John simply held up his hand and answered the phone. "'Lo, Sherlock," John answered irritably, "what do you want?"

Molly's breath catched. Was Sherlock coming to Bart's? Molly placed her hand over her heart. What would she do? Did she stay? Did she _leave?_

Whatever Sherlock said over the phone made John gasp and eyes widen. "W-what?" John stuttered. "What makes you think that?"

A pause. Molly felt alarm enter her system. What was Sherlock saying?

"I-I don't under... Wait, why were you even _there?"_

Molly gasped. "Where?" she asked John. The man just stared at her, his eyes widening further. She touched her friend's arm. "John, tell me, where was he?"

"Did he see you?" John asked Sherlock.

Molly felt herself go numb. She stared at John, disoriented. "H-he saw him, didn't he? Sherlock saw Theo."

John nodded numbly. "I-I don't understand _why_ he was over there, Molly, but he knows!"_  
_

She shook her head, running her fingers through her hair anxiously. "Why should we be surprised?" Molly asked no one in particular. "He _is_ Sherlock, and I bet one of his freaks that patrol around saw me and contacted him."

They stood, silent, for a good five minutes before John spoke again.

Her friend just nodded. "It... it doesn't make any _sense_!"

"Of course it doesn't! He's _Sherlock Holmes, _John! Anything and everything he does will never make sense!" Molly felt a burning anger for her son's father. What her baby must have...

"Oh, Lord, John," Molly muttered, horrified, looking to her friend. "What Theo must be going through."

John didn't answer, his eyes locked on something behind her. Molly felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end. She could practically _feel_ his presence behind her. _Why?_ she asked. _Oh, why, Lord, must this happen to me?_ Molly whipped around to find herself staring at the chest of _him._

"Sherlock," John said bitterly, "you bloody bastard!"

Sherlock didn't reply; he simply stared at Molly. Her body wouldn't move, even though her mind was screaming at it to move. She was captured by his gaze, as she did all those years before, and she stood immobile.

"So," Sherlock asked in his deep baritone, staring at Molly with unreadable, blue-green eyes - eyes that, until recently, she associated with Theo, "my son's name is Theo?"

* * *

A/N: Hey, guys, I know this isn't Thursday, LOL, but I'm going to be busy tomorrow, so I won't have time to post this. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed Theo's PoV! A treat for my dear readers! Leave your thoughts! xoxo Carly

PS: I _think_ I am going to start posting another story; it's been stuck in my head and won't get it out. It's WAY different from TUFH, but I'm excited about that. If it's not up tonight, expect it in the next few days.


	7. Part 7

**PART 7**

* * *

_"Ah, ah, Sherlock..."_

Molly wanted to wince at how minuscule her voice sounded, but she could not help the small waver that entered her squeaky tone. Sherlock caught her off guard, and his voice - oh, his _voice_ - was still as... _alluring_ as it once was all those years ago. Now, he looked so menacing as he stared at Molly, despite the fact that he kept his face neutral, and Molly wanted nothing more than to grab Theo and go running about to Miami, taking the small shred of dignity Sherlock left Molly with her.

Sherlock simply raised an eyebrow at her, his hair falling into his beautiful, blue-green eyes as he bent his face forward to look at her. Molly could not help but notice the gray hairs that peaked up around his hairline and the faint wrinkles on his face left from years of scowling. Despite the growing signs of age, time was kind to Sherlock than it was to most. Molly felt like slapping Sherlock for his sheer beauty, despite his aging. She felt as if Sherlock's face came closer and closer to hers until it rested right in front of hers. She could feel goosebumps rising on her skin, and if she leaned forward only a little, she could...

"Molly," Sherlock greeted, "you look relatively the same." His eyes roamed over her face and body. "Other than gaining some weight and wrinkles, you still look like that woman from years ago."

She gasped, stumbling back from Sherlock, who looked both confused and amused at the same time. "O-oh, s-sorry," she mumbled incoherently, trying to catch her breath at Sherlock's sharp, cutting words.

"Sherlock, you bloody bastard!" John bellowed.

Molly just stared at the ground. It felt like her whole body rebelled against her. Why did she feel like she just ran a marathon? She didn't remember her heart rate elevating and her breathing speed up. Molly felt like crying because she realized it was Sherlock's doing.

_Even after hurting you and your son and critiquing your looks, he still has this power over you?_ her mind thought sadly.

"How dare you come here and insult Molly like that!" John bellowed, continuing his rant. Her friend came to stand in front of her, hiding her from the man who fathered her son that stood on the opposite side of the room.

Molly felt Sherlock's piercing gaze leave her and settle onto John. "You have no reason to be angry at me," he replied coolly to the angered doctor.

"Oh, Sherlock, I have _every_ right to be _irate_ with you!" John snapped. "You were so wrapped up in yourself that you didn't even notice Molly's absence until months after she left," Molly winced, keeping her eyes at the floor, as John yelled this at Sherlock, who stared coldly at his friend. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised, but it was very apparent to her that she never meant anything to this tall man in all black. No matter how much Molly wanted to fight it, the realization left her wounded and upset. John was oblivious to Molly's sudden sadness and continued his sentence, "and, now, you stand here _glaring_ at her because you've just discovered your carelessness fathered a son! And, to add to that long list of things, you waltz in here and start to berate her about aging! May I remind you, Sherlock, that you've gained some weight and wrinkles as well, you fucking arsehole!"

Molly kept her eyes glued to the tile, not risking even the faintest glance. She did not want to have to face those eyes - the eyes that, over fifteen years, she'd grown used to staring at her with amazement and love due to her son - that only looked at her with contempt. No, she did not yearn for the reopening of a wound that never truly healed, no matter how hard she tried to move on with her life, but how could she move on when she had a son that reminded her everyday of what once was?

The room quieted as John's seething words echoed around the morgue. Molly vaguely thought about how grateful she was that no one else was in St. Bart's for the time being. This moment was private, and she surely did not want to whole of St. Bart's to know that Sherlock knocked her up fifteen years ago, and he is just now finding out that he is a father.

No one spoke - not her, not John, not Sherlock - but there was a sniffle every once and a while that would break the silence. It wasn't until later that Molly realized that the small sobbing was her. She hiccuped, trying to quiet her crying, and looked up to see John _and_ Sherlock looking at her, John with concern. Sherlock's expression was truly unreadable, and Molly made no attempt to try and decipher it. She tried in vain to compose herself, hating that Sherlock hadn't heard even five words from her mouth and was now seeing her crying. It was not the way the first meeting of ex-lovers should be.

She looked back to the floor, the awkwardness flooding the room making her uncomfortable. She knew that, at the moment, she was the center of both John's and Sherlock's attention, and that was number one on Molly's list of _Never Want These Things to Happen._

The silence was borderline menacing until John broke the silence, snapping, "You could have told me you were coming, you know!"

Letting out a grateful sigh, Molly simply let the conversation take it's course, still staring at the floor. She knew that John and Sherlock argued like brothers, and that Sherlock could not stay angry at John for long. Herself, however, she wasn't so sure. Molly never truly angered Sherlock before, but the situation could have changed that.

"I was unaware you weren't alone," Sherlock gritted through clenched teeth. "If I had been, I wouldn't have called _you_."

"Who the bloody hell would you have called, then?" John spat. "Mary? _Her?_" Molly looked up to see John pointing an outraged finger at her.

Sherlock glanced at John and then proceeded to give the wall behind the doctor a hard stare. "I-I don't know. I called you in the hope that you could enlighten me on the situation, perhaps give some advice, but," Sherlock's eyes snapped to Molly, who recoiled at the angry light in his ever-changing eyes, "you were already talking to the very woman who never informed me about the son I apparently have now!"

He glared coldly at her, and Molly felt a boldness boil inside of her. He blamed _her_ for this, for their _son_?

_Oh, hell no,_ she thought angrily. _Our son was no mistake._

"Well, excuse me, Sherlock!" she snapped. "I wasn't aware of you ever wishing for a child! Excuse my ignorance!"

Sherlock seemed mildly shocked at her outburst, as did John, as they both stared at her comically with wide-eyes and dropped jaws. The surprise on Sherlock's face quickly dissipated. "Well, I would have liked to _know_ at least!" he retorted, his voice just as angry at hers, "instead of finding out by the sight of him!"

"What did you expect me to do?" Molly questioned, her voice hot and her face red. "Go running back to the man who _broke my heart_ after finding out I was pregnant? Tell him not only is the woman he fucked still madly in love with him but also pregnant with his child?" Sherlock looked at her, his eyes slightly wide but his mouth closed. "No thank you, Sherlock!"

"You still should have told me," Sherlock replied after a moment. "I could have helped you."

"No you wouldn't have!" Molly screeched. "You _dumped me on my ass_ when I even breathed a word of love! Did you think that I, a single, 29-year-old pregnant woman, would be dumb enough to go _back_ to you and risk, not only having my heart broken yet _again_, having our child grow up in a home where his father didn't _want him_?" Molly felt herself shaking, quivering in anger. She felt hot and irate and accused. After years of oppression, her emotions bubbled to the surface, hot as lava. "You would not have helped! You would have made the whole situation worse! I le-"

Suddenly, the sound of her phone ringing broke the silence. Molly let out a breath, trying to calm herself. "Excuse me," she said curtly. She walked to her purse, retrieving her phone and answered it without looking at the number. "Hello?"

"M-mom!" Theo's shaking voice broke through the speaker at her ear.

Molly's anger at Sherlock disappeared as the concern for her son replaced it. "Oh, Theo, honey, what's wrong?"

There was a quivering breath on the other end of the line. "I-I saw him, Mom! I saw him - my dad!"

"Oh, dear, calm down," Molly soothed, turning her back to the two men behind her.

"I don't know what to do!" Theo cried breathlessly.

"Dear, dear, you need to take a breath, breathe, sweetheart."

"I-I want you to come home, mommy," her son whimpered.

Molly felt her anger returning as she listened to her son, her baby boy, asking her to come home. He even called her 'mommy,' something that Theo hadn't done since he was ten. "I will, baby, my shift is over in a couple minutes, and then I'm coming home to you," she replied softly, hoping that the promise to come home would soothe her son.

Theo gave a small sigh. "Okay, I'll be here."

"Okay, dear, I'll see you soon, okay?"

A pause. "O-okay."

Molly ended the call and turned around, her eyes going to Sherlock. She glared hotly at him, but his gaze was not on her. It was on her phone, which she still held in her hand.

He gulped. "Was that-"

"Theo?" she interrupted. "Yes, indeed, it was."

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably as Molly glowered at him. For once, it seemed that the magnificent Sherlock Holmes was without words. He cleared his throat. "He sounded-"

"Upset?" Molly shocked herself by her boldness, but Sherlock pissed her off beyond belief. "Why were you even _at my old flat?_" she hissed.

Sherlock didn't respond; he only matched her angry gaze with a cold, steely one of his own. The two - mother and father - locked themselves into a staring match, neither party willing to back down. Molly wanted to hit Sherlock upside his head so hard, but she knew that even her inner mamma-bear could accomplish _that_ feat. If looks could kill, Sherlock Holmes would be obliterated where he stood.

Molly'd forgotten that John was still in the room. She jumped, startled, when John cleared his throat and spoke, "So, are you two going to just glare at each other for the rest of the day?"

Sherlock looked at his feet, while Molly tried to regain her composure. It seemed outrageous that only this morning everything was calm. There was no Sherlock, no crying Theo, and no royally pissed off Molly. Now, it seemed, Sherlock ruined everything with his uncanny ability to be an utter asshole and show up at the most inopportune moments.

"N-no," Molly, collecting her thoughts, mumbled to John, who moved closer to her. She looked up to see her friend staring at her with wide, concerned eyes. She could see the unspoken question in John's eyes. "I don't what I'm going to do yet," she said quietly, glancing at the clock. "All I know is that I have a son at home who is absolutely shaken from seeing his father for the first time - how they met, I've not a clue - and I need to go be mom now."

John nodded stiffly. "Do you want me to come over later?"

She shook her head. "Theo plays tough, but I think one encounter of a person from my past is enough for one day... or forever," she replied, the last part under her breath. She moved to collect her purse when a voice stopped her short.

"When do I get to see my son again?" Sherlock asked quietly.

Molly whipped around, an incredulous expression on her face. Her shock melted away as quickly as it came. "Give me one good reason why I should let you, Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock opened his mouth, but his brain struggled or an answer. Molly gave a satisfied nod. "That's what I thought." She collected her things. Molly felt remorse at being so vile to Sherlock. _Why - WHY - must I have a bloody conscience?_ Molly thought crossly.

She walked towards the door, giving John a look that showed she wasn't angry with him and she'd be in touch. Her hand pushed the door open slightly before she took a deep breath and said, "I will talk to Theo. If he _wants_ you in his life, then maybe -_ maybe_ - I will consider letting you into our lives, Sherlock."

Without another word, Molly walked out the door.

* * *

John stared at the door for a long time. He didn't move; he just stared. Sherlock seemed to be doing the same. John looked to her his friend and saw a tortured expression on Sherlock's face. John swallowed a gasp; he'd never seen Sherlock look so... _helpless_, _desperate__. _Sherlock just looked blankly at the door, his eyes glazed over.

John shook his head. "Good job, Sherlock."

"What did I do?" Sherlock mumbled, still staring at the door.

"You managed to not only drive away the mother of your child and the only woman who've you had a sexual and emotional relationship away, but now it's very possible that you've managed to take away the only chance you've ever had at knowing you son." It was almost comical how much Sherlock screwed this up. John shook his head, collecting his phone and clipboard. "I need to go, Sherlock. See you... whenever."

With nothing else, the doctor left his friend standing there, alone, in the middle of St. Bart's.

* * *

A/N: One of these days I will actually _follow through_ with when I'm going to update, but, alas, SammyKatz implied another request, so here we are! Admittedly, I already had this whole chapter typed up, so I didn't really have to work at it. LOL. Read and review! I hope you enjoyed!

PS: I uploaded another story. It's called A Penny for Your Silence? It's an AU with a twist. If you want more strong Molly, read THAT. I've gotten no reviews on it so far, and I wondered if I should take it down. It would be multi-chaptered, like this, and I was excited for it, but if no one will read it I won't bother. Please either review what you think here or on the story. Thanks!


	8. Part 8

**PART 8**

* * *

_Seldom was there ever a time when Sherlock truly did not know what to do or say or think_. But, as time went on, this situation proved to be the most challenging thing that Sherlock would ever have to face. He stood in Molly's morgue, staring blankly at the doors that both the woman who bore him a son and his best friend exited out of, and felt an anxious feeling bubbling up inside of him. It took Sherlock a good thirty minutes before he stopped gawking like an idiot at the doors with the hope that one of them - mostly Molly - would return.

Sherlock took a seat in a squeaky chair near the metal slabs. He sat with his legs crossed, an elbow on each knee, and his chin resting against his two index fingers. He did not wish to return to 221b, for that apartment was no longer a place of comfort since Mrs. Hudson passed away and John moved out to live with his wife, Mary. Sherlock never went to his flat until it was absolutely necessary.

_Strange things happen when one is alone_, Sherlock thought to himself.

But Sherlock did not think about himself; no, Sherlock thought about Molly Hooper. He deduced the moment he saw her that she enjoyed their son immensely. It was as if she _radiated _motherly pride about Sherlock's son, and Sherlock could not help but be... _relieved_ that his son brought only pleasure and happiness to little Molly Hooper.

Sherlock snorted at himself. Why should he care about whether his son treated his mother right? Sherlock didn't even have the decency to treat Molly right himself. _And look where that got you, you git,_ his conscience thought, _an empty home and a dissatisfied sex life._

His own mind shocked Sherlock sometimes. He'd not thought about sex with Molly in a couple of months, trying to block out all memories of their small time together. He knew that his method of forgetting never quite worked, even if it looked like he forgot Molly. Sherlock remembered John's cutting words about not noticing Molly left until months after. While they looked true on the outside, they were quite the opposite on the inside.

Sherlock felt Molly's absence the moment she left him for England. Why else would he have gone running to Mycroft, begging his brother to monitor Molly and her life in the States...

"Mycroft," Sherlock hissed to the empty morgue, "you knew. You've _had_ to of known."

_But why didn't he tell me?_ Sherlock thought, puzzled. Though Sherlock didn't know for sure, he had a strong suspicion about Mycroft's motives. Knowing about his son's existence gave Mycroft an advantage over the younger Holmes brother. Sherlock gritted his teeth angrily at the possibility of Mycroft's deceit of Molly's circumstance.

Sherlock knew what he had to do. He stood up from the chair abruptly, wincing slightly as his right knee gave a sharp protest. Annoyance passed over Sherlock's face. It seemed that fate would not deter from showing Sherlock how he aged more and more every year as his body filled up with aches and pains. He ignored the searing pain and strode swiftly to the door, a determined expression on his face.

It was time he paid Mycroft a belated visit.

* * *

"Oh, Sherlock, how lovely to see you."

Sherlock tried his hardest to keep his irritation off his face. Unbeknownst to most, Sherlock actually _liked_ his brother's new wife. Granted, Sherlock met Emilia Reynolds-Holmes before Mycroft, but his good opinion of her did not cease when he discovered his brother's unfailing love for Emilia. Emilia was a beautiful woman with long, silky blonde hair, violet eyes, silvery skin, and an abnormally good-looking body for someone of her age. The more Emilia aged, the lovelier she got. Call it sentiment, call it brotherly love, but Sherlock would always be grateful for Emilia's appearance in Mycroft's life. His brother needed someone to love, and Emilia desperately needed someone to take care of her.

"Emmy," he greeted in his deep baritone, giving her one of his rare smiles, "good to see you."

Emilia smiled widely at her brother-in-law. "It's been so long, Sherlock! Come in!" Her violet eyes shined brightly as Sherlock nodded and walked casually into the Holmes' residence, the stress of the situation Sherlock would need to face leaving his shoulders with every step. The two made their way to the sitting room, Emilia taking a seat while Sherlock took his place near the fireplace, leaning against it as he faintly registered the dull ache in his right knee. "What brings you here so unexpectedly?"

Sherlock turned to glance at his sister-in-law. He felt an... _overwhelming_ urge to ask Emilia for advice on the situation at hand, both with Mycroft _and_ Molly. After all, Emilia was a female, and she lived with Mycroft.

_Only some superior deity knows how she deals with him on a day to day basis,_ Sherlock thought sarcastically.

"I-I have a personal matter that Mycroft was privy to that he did not share with me, and I don't know what to do about it," Sherlock said, trying to ignore that shocked expression Emilia had on her face when he stuttered.

After her initial shock at his stammering and confusion on how to deal with the matter at hand, Emilia raised an eyebrow. "Are you actually _involved_ in the situation, Sherlock?" Emilia knew that Sherlock had a track record of getting entangled with the business of other people, no matter how much he denied it.

"Well, _yes_," Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes with an exasperated expression, "of course I am involved with it! Why would I care if I wasn't?"

Emilia raised her hand, trying to lower her brother-in-law's voice. "Okay, okay, Sherlock, I understand. If it is not too much trouble, could you at least explain the situation? I could help you more if you actually told me what it was."

Sherlock's face grew alarmed. "I-I... that's the problem. It is... _personal."_

"Well, of course it's personal. I understand that part, but what's the situation?"

"I-I don't know _how_ to tell you!" Sherlock replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Emilia raised her honey-colored eyebrow. "Sherlock, nothing you did could be _that bad_. Just tell me. Mycroft won't be home for another hour, so you might as well tell me because I will find out eventually."

Sherlock stared at her with wide eyes. "Mycroft tells you everything?"

Emilia smirked. "If you didn't already know, Sherlock, I _am_ Mycroft's _wife_. I know all about you, his job, his boss - everything."

"Indeed," Sherlock muttered. Did he even really want to talk to her about it? The fact that he debated about revealing his secret made the fact that he had a son all the more real. "I-I have..." Sherlock trailed off.

"Well?"

"IHAVEASON!" Sherlock blurted loudly. He sat, stunned at his outburst. Did he really just lose control over himself? He frowned, not liking the feeling of hopelessness that entered him.

Emilia frowned along with him. "Um, slower and more defined, please?"

"I do not appreciate sarcasm, Emmy," Sherlock growled.

His sister-in-law raised her hands. "Okay, okay, you've got me, but, please, tell me slower... a lot slower."

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I... I have a son."

Emilia didn't even bat an eyelash. She simply stared at Sherlock, who shifted uncomfortably where he stood next to the fireplace. "How did you find out?"

"You _knew?_"

"Well, yes, Sherlock. Like I said before, I am _married_ to Mycroft Holmes, the only person besides myself who knew of Theodore John Hooper's existence."

"_Theodore John?_" Sherlock asked.

Emilia smiled. "Yes, Theodore John. It seemed Molly respected Dr. Watson enough to name her son after him. 'Theodore' is her brother's middle name."

"I-I didn't know his full name," Sherlock replied. It felt... surreal. It was almost like Emilia and him spoke... normally. And about a son that until this morning he didn't know he had. "Molly calls him 'Theo.'"

_Molly_, Sherlock thought, his heart constricting painfully.

He did not like his array of emotion that flowed through him at the moment. It was uncomfortable and made him feel unbearably guilty - feelings that felt foreign but managed to feel natural at the same time.

Emilia gave him a small smile. "'Molly?'"

"His mother," Sherlock replied breathlessly.

"Ah, Mycroft never told me her name," Emilia said quietly.

Sherlock stood silently, so lost in pondering his thoughts that he didn't even make a remark about how Mycroft obviously did _not_ tell Emilia everything. _What am I feeling?_ he asked himself, thoroughly bewildered at the mixture of churning emotions in his stomach.

"You love her?" Emilia asked quietly.

Sherlock jerked, looking to Emilia with wide eyes. "W-what?"

"You love her." Now it wasn't a question. Emilia smiled at him brightly, and Sherlock stood straighter.

"Of course not!"

Emilia raised an eyebrow. "You should have seen your face when you said her name, Sherlock. It was a mixture of adoration and agony."

"It does not matter my feelings for Molly at the moment. I've yet to earn her good grace, and I fear that I've forever lost it," Sherlock thought aloud.

"What could you have done to lose it?"

"Be myself," Sherlock muttered.

"'Be yourself?'" Emilia asked. "Oh, Sherlock, she obviously liked you before!"

"How do you know?" Sherlock asked, confused.

Emilia gave him a look of exasperation. "Well, obviously, she liked you enough to get in a bed with you and do 'stuff' because she _did_ give birth to your son."

Sherlock nodded, understanding. "That was fifteen years ago, Emmy."

"Sherlock, I've known you for at least ten of those years, and you're not that bad," Emilia said.

Sherlock pulled at his hair, resisting the urge to pace. "No, you don't understand, Emilia. I've offended her."

His sister-in-law raised an eyebrow. Sherlock noted absently that Emilia Holmes did that often around him and her husband. "And? You offend everybody. I'm sure you offended her before."

"I have," Sherlock said," but she used to forgive me, never talk back and defend herself. This time she _did_, and she said that she wasn't sure she would allow me in my son's life. I fear my offense to her has cost me dearly."

Emilia was silent for a moment. "Do you _want_ to be apart of Theodore's life? Truly?"

Sherlock hesitated before answering, thinking over Emilia's questions. Did he want to be apart of his son's life? He took an unnecessary deep breath. "Yes, I do."

Emilia nodded. "That's good. When it comes to children and especially women, you are either in for good or out for good. It sounds to me that you have not given Molly a good reason to believe that you are in for good."

"I have not," Sherlock agreed.

"Then, that's what you must do," Emilia said, her voice sure and positive.

Sherlock turned on his heels to turn to look at her. He'd just realized that he'd been pacing. "What must I do?"

"Give her a reason, Sherlock!"

"A reason to believe that I'm in for good?" Sherlock clarified.

"Yes, Sherlock. Precisely."

Sherlock nodded. "Indeed. That is true. I need to give her a reason..."

Emilia could see that Sherlock was no longer talking to her. She stood, looking at the clock. "Mycroft will be home soon, Sherlock," she warned.

Sherlock looked at the clock, pausing his monologue, and nodded. "I need to go anyway."

"You don't need to talk to Mycroft anymore?" Emilia asked, trying to hide her smile.

"No," Sherlock said, shaking his head, "no, I don't."

Emilia and Sherlock walked to the door in silence. When Emilia opened the door, Sherlock walked through it quickly and paused. He turned around to see Emilia looking at him curiously.

"What, Sherlock?"

"Thank you, Emmy," Sherlock said quietly.

Emilia smiled. "You're welcome, Sherlock. You're welcome."

Without another word, Sherlock whipped around and walked away, his coat flapping behind him in the London wind.

* * *

When Mycroft returned home from an abnormally long day, he could tell immediately that something was hidden from him by his gorgeous wife.

"Who came by, beautiful?" he asked, trying to feign indifference.

Emilia, of course, saw right through him and smiled widely. "Let's just say that Theodore is no longer a secret, and when things die down, Sherlock will have a lot to say to you."

* * *

A/N: What do you think? I, personally, loved writing from Sherlock's PoV, and Emilia is just lovely to write. Maybe we will get a chapter from her perspective one day. Read and review please!


	9. Part 9

**Part 9**

* * *

_The first thing Molly did when she left the morgue was go into the nearest restroom in a restaurant not far from St. Bart's and sob her heart out._ She knew at that moment that going home to face Theo in her condition was about the worst thing she could do for her and her son. She sat in a stall on the floor, not caring how unsanitary the floor was, and let everything she held in for the past fifteen years flow through her small, mousy body. In that instant, she was not Molly Hooper, the woman who gave birth and raised a teenage boy all by herself. No, she was Molly Hooper, the woman's whose heart was breaking again and again by one man. She was the old Molly Hooper who many fancied a mouse rather than a woman. She was the very thing she sought never to become after Sherlock shattered her heart - weak.

Molly curled up into a ball, her face on her knees, and wrapped her arms around herself, trying her best to get a hold on her rapidly decreasing control. Wallowing in self-pity, she let all the cruel, mean things Sherlock said to her - both that day and all in the past - flood into her brain. Leave it to her - little, mousy Molly - to fall madly in love who did nothing but hurt her and _stay in love _with him for fifteen years. No normal - no _rational_ - person put themselves through this misery.

As she blubbered nonsense on the floor to the empty restroom, Molly knew that she was in no condition to go home to Theo, with salty tear streaks littering her face, snot pouring from her nose, and tiny dribbles of spit exiting her mouth at the corners. She breathed erratically in little, sporadic hiccups that made her sound actually sound like the rodent that many people described her as. Molly had no doubt in her mind that she was, indeed, a very ugly crier, and the experience of having to deal with her was something that Molly did not want her son to witness... _ever_.

As she sat there, leaning wilted against where the stall door and wall met, she faintly registered the sound of small, hesitant footsteps enter the restroom. Molly tried in vain to quiet her loud crying, but she could not contain the small, involuntary whimpers and soft sobs that left her thin lips. She watched as the shadow of the person as they stopped in front of her stall, and she bit her lower lip to keep herself for letting out another nonsensical cry.

"Miss, are you alright in there?" a soft, feminine voice whispered.

Molly did not trust herself to speak, and she knew nodding would not do her good. She simply stayed silent save the small, depressed noises that she felt deep inside her. Her throat burned and ached at keeping in the heavy sobs that threatened to escape as she silently cursed Sherlock for making her a mess with every curse word she knew.

Half-expecting the shadow to just leave, it surprised her by staying put, only shifting slightly. "Ma'am?" the woman asked again. "Ma'am, please make at least some signal showing you are alive."

Molly let out a small "Mhm-hmm," hoping that the woman leave her be.

The shadow huffed, and Molly felt eternally grateful to whoever the shadow was, because, not a minute after Molly's half-assed reply, they left the bathroom. She scrambled quickly, gathering her strewn things from the ground, and stood cautiously. She knew that the woman left; Molly heard her go, but she did not want to risk anyone seeing her like this.

She opened the stall door a crack, surveying the area to the best of her ability due to the small amount of vision, and sighed.

_Now or never, Molly Hooper, _she thought, resigned.

Molly swung open the door and marched to the mirror, bracing herself for what she saw. She winced at her reflection. She hadn't sobbed that hard since she first discovered she was pregnant with Theo, and that had been out of sheer delight, surprise, anger, frustration, and hopelessness in all one jumble - not the greatest things to feel when one was with child. She'd just finished sobbing out of utter despair, sadness, and hurt. At least she got Theo out of the first sob; this episode of crying only earned her bright red, puffy eyes and a tear streaked face.

She cleaned herself as efficiently as one could with scratchy, brown paper towels and tap water. She went to wash her hands after she touched the nasty floor, but all the soap dispensers next to the three sinks seemed to be empty, and Molly let out an exasperated huff.

_This day just keeps getting better and better,_ she thought crossly.

She did without washing her hands, settling for some awful smelling hand sanitizer that she kept in her purse and pulled her hair out of its ponytail. She wanted at least _some_ coverage for her face, which was still blotchy and red from her heavy sobbing.

When she looked semi-presentable, she took a deep breath, preparing her for the outside world. She needed to get home to her son, and she needed to fast. No matter how much she hurt, Theo - her son, her pride and joy - went first. She hugged herself for a moment before shoving open the bathroom door and walked out of the restaurant, head held high and not looking at any of the people who eyed her curiously.

* * *

"Theo?" Molly called out, her eyes widening, momentarily forgetting the matter at hand, when she saw how impeccable their apartment looked - it was magnificently clean, cleaner than it was in years. She let out a small gasp. "The apartment-"

"-is clean," a crackled, teenage voice interrupted.

Molly turned to see her son standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his eyes red and his skin aflame from crying but his face neutral. He looked calm, put together; something that Molly wished she looked like, but she could tell from his worried gaze that she looked far from the strong mother that she wished to be. She sighed and looked at her ballet flat covered feet.

She felt like crying. It happened - the awkward, uncomfortable silence that she hoped that she would never have to endure with her son. No child should have to deal with this situation; no _woman in love_ should have to deal with this situation. Yet, Molly somehow managed to drag both her and her son into this, and there was definitely no way around it; fear still gripped her, stopping her from opening her mouth.

Standing like she would if she were in front of Sherlock, Molly thought bitterly about how before Sherlock showed up.

"So, are we just going to stand here, then?" Theo demanded, his voice angry. "Stand here and not speak of..." his voice trailed off, cracking slightly at the end.

"Of what happened?" Molly asked quietly.

Theo took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Yes, of when my father stood in the bushes across the street and watched our apartment."

Molly let out a strangled gasp. "W-wait, he stood in the bushes _watching the flat?"_

Her son nodded. "Er, yeah, that's the part that freaked me out the most." He put his pants in his dark-denim jeans and shrugged, and the sight hit Molly deep in her chest - he looked just like Sherlock when he did that. "I mean, I'm not entirely comfortable in this apartment, and I go out to walk down the driveway to through something in the recycling, and there's this dude just _standing there and watching_." He let out a strangled chuckle. "And it turns out that's my long-lost _dad._ I mean, that's a major mind-fuck." Theo didn't even seem to be speaking to Molly anymore; he spoke his mind, staring with a crazy glint in his eye at the wall behind Molly. He started to pace, and Molly looked at her son with growing alarm, not even scolding him for his language. "And now, my mom is just as upset as I am, and I-" he let out a small sob. "I can't even _pretend_ for her!"

Molly stood and walked swiftly to her son, who was pulling at his curly, brown mop like a mad man. "Theo!" she soothed quietly, trying to get him to look at her. "Theo!" Still, her son refused. She stamped her foot impatiently. "Theodore!"

Theo's wide, crazed eyes looked at her, and Molly had to hold back a sob at how much they looked like a certain detective's. She shoved those feelings back into a box deep inside her mind, locking them away for a rainy day that hopefully would never come, and focused her energy on her son. "What?" he asked breathlessly.

She looked up at him, for he stood several inches taller than her, and smiled sadly at him. "Oh, Theo," she whispered, "my little boy..."

"I'm not little," he mumbled sourly after a moment.

Molly let out a small giggle. "You will always be my little Teddy, Theo, no matter how old you become. At your graduation, I will shout your nickname with pride. At your wedding, I will cry like a good mother and call you 'Teddy Bear' in front of everyone when I get the mother-son dance." She could tell Theo held back laughter, trying to keep a straight face, and she continued with a wicked grin, "I'm sure your wife will _love_ to hear all the things I called you."_  
_

"No! Absolutely not!" Theo protested finally, cracking a smile.

"There's my son," Molly whispered, touching his hair lovingly. "He's better than the crazed man that was just pacing about."

"_I do not pace_," Theo hissed playfully.

Molly shook her head, backing away from her son to get a better look at him. "Yes, you do, my dear. You are Sherlock Holmes' son and the nephew of Mycroft Holmes." She rolled her eyes, shocked at her boldness and casualness of her words. "All Holmes men pace."

Theo remained silent, observing his mother. She held his gaze, knowing that he wanted desperately to ask a question but had not found the nerve for it yet. She knew that it would be best for the both of them just to talk about it and get it over with. "Ask, Theo," she said softly. His eyes bulged comically, and Molly smiled timidly. "Go on, my dear. Just ask."

"It'snotaquestion," Theo blurted hurriedly. Molly had to watch his lips to understand what he said.

She raised her eyebrow at her son. "What is it then?"

Her son took a deep breath and regarded her cautiously. She did not like where this was going - at all. He opened his mouth and whispered, "I want to know him."

She stared blankly.

Then, with more sureness, Theo repeated, "I want to know him - my father. If he will have me..." The last part was barely more than a whisper.

Molly did not know what to do. She did not know what she expected, but it certainly was not this. She expected her son to scream, cry, and rage endlessly with his sharp temper, that part of Sherlock that was deeply embedded deep inside her son that only emerged when it needed to. The sick part of her wanted to tell him no and run into her bedroom and cry. Was she no longer good enough? Was Sherlock what Theo really wanted?

_That is preposterous!_ Molly's mind reasoned. _It's only logical that Theo would want to know his father._

_But are _you_ ready to know_ him? There was the big question. Could _Molly_ allow him - Sherlock Holmes, the man who broke her physically and mentally - back into her life.

"I-I," Molly tried, but her voice simply refused to work. She backed up slowly, leaning against the kitchen counter for support. "O-okay," her voice broke. She felt herself start to shake violently. "T-that would be okay."

"Mom?" Theo asked, alarmed. "Mom! Are you okay?" He rushed to her side. Molly realized belatedly that her body emitted heavy sobs and tears dripped down her cheeks. "Mom, you're scaring me!"

"I-I-I'm sorry, Theo," Molly whimpered, wiping her eyes and nose.

Theo stared at her, his eyes filling with emotion. "Are you upset that I want to know my father?"

Molly shook her head, another sob escaping her. "N-no, Theo, you can know your father," she hiccuped. "I _want_ you to know your father so desperately that there's an ache in my chest. No child deserves to be ignorant of the other parent, and I know that Sherlock will want to know you now that he's seen you," Molly continued in between her sobs. "B-but..." She trailed off as she let another sob wrack her body. She hated crying - it tired her out, and she never just cried with her eyes. She cried with her whole body.

"But what?" Theo asked softly.

"But I'm not sure if _I'm_ ready to know him!" Molly wailed. Theo looked at her, his expression unreadable. "He... he hurt me so badly, Theo! I cannot just simply let him walk into my life again! In fact, I don't know if I will ever forgive him, or if I even _want_ to!" Molly couldn't believe what she just said, but every word was true. How could she let him just waltz back into her life -_ her heart_ - without anything more than a 'hello' and a 'good-bye.' No, she couldn't. "I know it's selfish, Theo, but I need to be selfish this time, dear. I-I need-"

Theo cut her off. "I know, Mom. I understand."

"Y-you do?" Molly asked dumbly, tears still slipping down her cheeks.

Theo nodded. "Yes, Mom. I do."

"I'm sorry that it had to happen like this, Theodore," she whispered softly, her voice still slightly quavering.

Theo hugged his mother close, both of them leaning against the kitchen counter. "I'm sorry, too, Mom," he whispered. "I am too."

* * *

Before his mother went upstairs, Theo stopped her, telling her he decided he wanted to go for a walk. She hadn't objected, simply nodding, and climbing the stairs tiredly, her face and eyes still red from crying. He glanced at the clock as she went upstairs. Only 6:30, perfect. The moment he heard her door close, he rushed from his spot on the ugly, flowery couch and to her purse that still sat by the door from when she first walked in.

He went through the contact list hurriedly, his eyes searching for one name in particular. His face lit up slightly when he found it, and he hit the call button without thinking about what he was doing.

It rang only once before a voice answered breathlessly, "Molly, are you-"

"This isn't Molly," Theo cut off the voice.

There was a sound of confusion. "Who the bloody hell is it then? The Devil's son?"

Theo chuckled. "Very possible. This is Theodore Hooper, Molly's son."

A pause. "Theo?"

"Yes, John, Theo," the young, teenager replied.

John let out a small gasp. "Not to be rude, but why are you calling me?"

Theo let out a small laugh. "I need to see you - tonight. Can you tell me your address?"

The older doctor listed off a street name and flat number. Theo thanked the man, but before he could hang up, John stopped him. "Is this about Sh-er, your father?"

"Yes and no. I'm not going to ask you questions about my father. I will ask him those in person. What I want from you is one very simply thing - information on what my father did to burn my mother so badly."

* * *

A/N: I know it is wicked to leave you guys hanging there, but I am DEAD TIRED from school. Only one week left until the summer, so I will be updating more regularly in about two weeks. It will be sporadic, I warn you, though. It won't really have set days, but I will at least try to update at least on Monday and Thursday if not more. Leave your thoughts on what you think _actually happened_ to Sherlock and Molly that faithful night! I might update tomorrow, but it's a definite maybe. So don't get your hopes up _too_ much. Love all the reviews I've gotten! Thank you, faithful readers!

PS: In reply to fayt3, I went back and changed the chapter to make sure that the period in which Sherlock calls and arrives longer. Thanks for the nitpick! I don't always pick up on those things! In reply to Llan, one, does there need to be a reason to let Mycroft be happy? Two, Emilia becomes a bigger part of the plot later. Three, she was needed to make Sherlock think. You will find that Emilia is both of Sherlock's conscience and motherly figure, something that Sherlock desperately needs in my interpretation.


	10. Part 10

**PART 10**

* * *

_Whatever Theo expected to happen when he showed up at Dr. John Watson's house, he certainly didn't expect a tall, thin, and pretty blonde teenager to open the door for him._ Nope, that was the last thing his mind ever thought would happen. The girl stood behind the partly opened door, one hand on her hip, the other clutching the door handle, with a bemused expression on her face. She had sparkly green eyes, freckles, a cute, button nose, and pretty full lips. Her curly, blonde hair went to about her waist, and her facial expressions were kind.

Theo felt his heart stutter a little when she bit her bottom lip and asked hesitantly, "Um, not to be rude, but... who are you? Why are you here?"

_What the hell?_ Theo thought when he felt a nervous feeling bubble up in his stomach. He went to speak, but his throat felt dry. He cleared it and replied shakily, "Er, I'm here to see your dad - Dr. John Watson."

The girl raised her eyebrow before shrugging. She turned towards the house and yelled, "Daddy, some American bloke is here to see you!" She turned back towards Theo. "What's your name?"

"Theodore Hooper," Theo replied instantaneously. By habit and by his mother's teaching, he always said his full name first. _Never go by your nickname, Theo,_ his mother said once to him when he was eleven, _it is polite to let the other person know exactly who you are._ "But I go by Theo."

The girl stared at him, as if trying to decipher something. Theo shuffled where he stood pensively. No girl ever looked at him with such a calculating expression before, and he didn't know how to react. "I like Theodore better," she replied mildly, her voice strong with opinion. "It reminds me of Laurie from _Little Women_."

"Well, I don't want you to call me 'Laurie,'" Theo replied indignantly.

The girl let out a small giggle. "No, of course not, Theodore." She moved aside, opening the door wider. "Come on in, Theodore Hooper."

"Thank you, er..." Theo trailed off as he entered the Watson home, just now realizing that he didn't know her name.

The girl went to open her mouth when Dr. Watson walked in. "Oh, Allie, thank you for letting in Theo," he said in a pleasant tone.

_Allie,_ Theo thought, _I will need to remember that._

Theo turned his attention from the daughter to the father. Dr. John Watson was on the shorter side of the male height spectrum, and Theo wondered vaguely where Allie got her tallness from. He had sandy brown hair that was more gray than blonde, kind blue eyes, and the same nose that Allie possessed. He looked good for his age, only having a slight belly, and Theo decided right away that John Watson was a man who many would like to have for a friend. He was not surprised that his mother named him after him.

"Hello, Dr. Watson," Theo said cooly, his crackly, teenage voice calm and collected.

The elder man simply stared at him for a moment, taking in all Theo's features. "Lord," he muttered finally, "you _do_ look like Sherlock."

Theo smirked. "My mother tells me that often."

"You even sound like him!" Allie's voice resounded behind Theo, and he turned to see her staring at her father with wide eyes. She spoke to her father and said, "Father, you didn't tell me that Sherlock had a son!"

"He just found out, Ms. Watson," Theo said.

Allie's face contorted. "My name is 'Allie,' not 'Ms. Watson.'" Her voice mimicked his in the last part, and Theo cracked a smile.

"Er, of course... Allie," Theo replied. Theo turned his expression to Dr. Watson and said, "Where do you want to have this conversation?"

"So direct, just like him," John murmured with a smile. "Well, come with me to my study. We will have the conversation there."

Theo turned to nod at Allie in good-bye. She simply stared at him before huffing and turning around to go up the stairs. Theo raised an eyebrow and sighed. He always sucked when it came to girls.

He heard John Watson laugh behind him. Theo looked at him, confused. John shrugged. "She has too much of her mother in her. She's always like that." He turned on his heel and walked through the living room. Theo followed him, still puzzled at Allie's behavior, and studied the house as they went.

The Watsons obviously were not doing bad when it came to money. All the furniture and items in their home seemed to be good quality and expensive looking. However, they did not flaunt their wealth. The modesty made Theo like John Watson even more, and he knew that he would like his namesake.

When they reached John's study - a big room with a large, mahogany desk with an office chair behind it and two sitting chairs in front it - John let Theo enter first before closing the door behind them both. John walked ahead of Theo, going towards his desk and gestured to two chairs in front. "Take a seat, Theo," he said politely.

Theo nodded and sat in the one to the right. John took a seat in the one to left, looking at Theo curiously. They sat in silence as Theo tried to think of the right way to bring up all his scattered questions that raced in his mind. There were too many that craved to be satisfied, and Theo felt like his brain would explode.

He heard John chuckle, and Theo's eyes immediately snapped to him. "You know, Theo, when you called me, I was overjoyed," John began cautiously. "I guess you don't realize the... _significance _you have when it comes between your mother and your father."

Theo stared at him. "You are right. I do not know the significance."

"Which is only normal, as you did not know your parents while they were together because you weren't alive yet," John said.

"I-I have so many questions about them - about _him_ - that I do not know where to begin," Theo whispered to John. "Mom never really went into detail, and I never pushed her because of the sadness in her eyes whenever she mentioned my father."

John nodded. "I know you have many questions, and I will answer whatever you ask." John sighed. "Your mother has many good reasons for feeling upset when talking about Sherlock."

"What..." Theo trailed off, not knowing if he _really_ wanted to know why his father broke his mother so badly. He took a deep breath and continued, "What did he do - my father - that made my mother so..."

"Hell-bent on leaving England?" John asked.

Theo nodded. "Yes - that."

John sighed. "I guess I should tell you because Sherlock won't ever take any blame for bloody anything, and your mother is too kind to say any harsh words about Sherlock to his own child." He paused before continuing, "Your mother always fancied Sherlock from the moment she met him. She worked as Saint Bartholomew's head pathologist when Sherlock came sweeping into her lab. He flirted with her to gain access to the bodies and resources there."

"So he used her?" Theo clarified, feeling a tight anger start to build in him.

John nodded. "Yes, he did, and she let him. She always harbored this hope that he would someday grow to like her, and she eventually turned out to be right, but she wasted many years letting him abuse her emotionally. This went on for about three years, and then your father faked his death because of a mad men threatening to kill him and all the people he cared about." John took another breath. "He turned to Molly, knowing that she would help him regardless of the circumstance, but there was another thing behind it, which only later did I find out. Sherlock started to care about your mother around that time, and he felt comforted knowing that she would be there."

"I'm guessing my mother helped him," Theo said flatly.

The doctor chuckled at his tone. "Indeed she did. Sherlock was legally 'dead' for about six months, and, over that six months, your father's caring grew from just a care to love." The man's face turned dark as he continued. "However, Sherlock never was good at feelings, so he did not know what to do when he found himself deeply in love with his pathologist and in her bed at the same time." John stopped to look at Theo, who sat patiently with an intent expression that looked so much like his father's. John nodded and continued. "They continued doing that - acting like a couple but without the title - for another six months, but that's when everything happened."

John looked away and stopped talking.

"What?" Theo asked. "What happened?"

The doctor looked to Theo and said, "Theo, this is the part that could make you hate your father..."

"I want to know," Theo responded immediately.

John nodded. "Okay..." John got a far away look in his eyes and continued on with the narrative, "Your father was on a case when the criminal he tracked for almost three months shot him twice in the leg. He was severely injured in his right knee and almost died - would have died if I had not been there with him. Your mother - as any girlfriend would be - was in hysterics and would not rest until she saw your father." John got an angry look on his face, and Theo could feel the bad part approaching. He mentally braced himself for what would happen next. "When your mother went into Sherlock's hospital room, she asked all of us to stay out, so she could talk to him. I agreed, but now I wish I hadn't. Your mother went in there to tell your father that she cared about him - loved him - and that he'd scared her. Well, your father..."

Theo's eyes widened. "Did not take it well..."

John looked at Theo with sad eyes. "No, he didn't. I did not know what he said until years later when your father's doctor's put him under general anesthesia. He was loopy, and I was able to get the information out of him. He told me that he told her that she was a bloody, incompetent fool for thinking that he could ever love her or care for her, that she was nothing more of a tool for sexual gratification, and that he wished that he wouldn't have gotten entangled with her, that he escaped while he still could." John shook his head bitterly.

Theo made an angry noise. "Was that true?" he demanded. "Is _that_ what he really felt?"

John shook his head calmly. "No. Trust me, I was just about to punch him in the face when he whispered, 'I wish I would've just said _I love you_ back, John.' He was too out of it to say anything else and just went to sleep." John laughed bitterly. "It was the worst and best thing Sherlock ever said. He did not breathe a word of it once he woke up, and he went back to ignoring the fact that Molly ever left."

Theo stood up and paced back and forth before stopping to stare at the bookshelves in John's study. "Do you think Sherlock still cares for my mother?"

John made a noise of confirmation. "Yes, I do. I believe that, if given the chance, he would fall on his knees and beg for her."

Theo nodded and then pulled at his curly brown map exasperatedly. "My mother..."

"What about her?" John asked, worriedly.

"She will not let him, John," Theo said, turning to look at the sitting doctor. "She told me that she is not ready - may never be ready - to have him back in her life, that I was free to see him and that she wanted me to see him because he is my father, but she made it clear that she had no desire to let him have control over her again. She said he broke her..."

"He did," John agreed, "and I believe Molly should give him hell for doing so."

"Indeed," Theo replied.

John was silent for a moment before he asked, "Do you want to know Sherlock?"

Theo nodded. "Yes, I do. He is my father, but there is a problem."

"What is that?" John asked, puzzled.

Theo chuckled darkly. "Does _he_ want to know _me?_"

John stood up and put his hand on Theo's shoulder. John hid his surprise on Theo's tall stature well. _Too much like Sherlock for his own bloody good_, he thought goodnaturedly. "He does, Theo. More than anything."

"How do you know?" Theo asked, letting his vulnerability shine through.

John squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "I just know."

* * *

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed that talk between John and Theo! Tell me what you think of Allie! Theo is _so_ confused on how to handle her, and I giggle every time I write him thinking about her in later chapters. I have decided to give you guys a treat for 74 reviews! Thank you all so much for your support and reviews! I smile when I read them! By the way, I read every single one! Leave your reviews, thoughts, opinions, etc.! Love you all so much!

PS: I am looking for a beta, so if you want to do it or know anyone who wants to do it, just PM me!


	11. Part 11

**PART 11**

* * *

_Molly woke up to the sound of her phone blaring._ Startled, she shot up in bed and somehow managed to get tangled in the sheets as she twisted, trying to find her phone on her nightstand. She rolled gracefully onto the floor with a loud 'OOMF' and struggled to get up. When she successfully grabbed the phone, she was out of breath, answering it with a panting, "Hello?"

"Er, Molly?"

"Oh, Courtney!" Molly replied to the phone, still trying to catch her breath. "What do you need?"

Courtney paused for a moment. "Oh, um, there's been another body found. I'm at the crime scene right now."

Molly glanced at the clock - _3:43 _in the morning. "Do you want me to go to the morgue or-"

The young woman on the other line cut her off. "Er, no, Molly. I, um, want you to come to the crime scene."

"To the _scene_?" Molly asked, puzzled, her brow furrowing as she sat up from her place on the floor, rubbing her pounding head. "Why?"

"The lead investigator wants you to come," Courtney replied nervously. Molly froze, her hand on the door knob to exit her room.

"T-the lead investigator?" she squeaked.

Courtney made a noise in the positive. "Um, yes, can you hurry please? The investigator seems... agitated."

Molly's eyes stared at her feet, and she wanted so bad - with her entire being - to say no, but she couldn't. This was her _job_, and Courtney asked her to come... "Okay," Molly agreed, "I'll be there in thirty."

Courtney sounded relieved. "Thank you so much, Molly. See you then."

"Yeah, see you then."

* * *

Molly sat anxiously in the cab, dressed in her normal chic pencil skirt and her hair pulled back with her bangs in a bump. She put on the minimum amount of make-up, less than she usually wore because of her hurry, as she texted Courtney for the address to the crime scene. Theo slept throughout her entire process of getting ready, only waking up when Molly shook him softly to tell him that worked called and she was leaving. He muttered a sleepy 'Okay' as his head hit his pillow, and Molly couldn't help but smile. At least he was okay.

The ten minute ride to the scene were excruciating for Molly. What detective asked of her? John didn't mention anything about Sherlock moving up in the detective rank, and she couldn't help but wonder _why - _if the detective was indeed Sherlock - he asked specifically for her. When the cab driver stopped, Molly paid him hastily, telling him to keep the change, and rushed out of the car and towards the police tape blockade. She maneuvered under the tape and strutted toward Courtney, who wrote swiftly on a paper on her clipboard.

"Courtney!" she called, waving her hand when her boss looked at her.

Courtney looked relieved. "Oh, Molly, thank _God. _I was beginning to worry you weren't coming."

"No, I'm here," Molly said. "Theo could hardly even lift his head because he was so sleepy."

"Rough few days?" Courtney inquired.

She smirked. "You could say that."

"Molly? Molly _Hooper?_"

The woman in question turned around to see - not Sherlock - but Gregory Lestrade staring at her with wide eyes. "Greg!" Molly greeted happily. She rushed towards him and pulled him into a hug. When she pulled back, she giggled at his confused expression. "It's so nice to see you, Greg!"

"Are you wearing makeup?" was his reply.

Molly laughed. "Yes, Greg, I also have a son and an American accent. Anything else you would like to point out?"

"Yo-you have a _son_?" Lestrade looked absolutely shocked.

"Yep, have had one for almost fifteen years," Molly replied proudly.

Greg's eyes widened comically. "Fif-fifteen bloody years, Molly Hooper?"

Molly was full-on laughing at her old boss. His face was beyond priceless, and she clutched her stomach as she tried to contain herself. When she got a grip on her sanity, she said, "Y-yes, Greg. Theo will be fifteen in July."

"Good lord!" Greg said. "I can't believe it - Molly Hooper a mother!"

"Well, believe it, Greg," Molly replied with a smile. She could not help but feel relieved that Greg was still the head detective. She got all worked up for nothing.

"Wh-what are you doing here, Molly?" Greg asked, bemused. "Back in England, _on this crime scene_."

Molly looked at him with surprise. "Um, Courtney called me, said that the lead detective wanted me here."

Greg looked alarmed. He gripped her arm, pulling her to him, and whispered, "Molly, the head detective is Sherlock."

Molly froze, looking up at her old friend and boss with horror. Greg was privy to what Sherlock had said to her. He'd caught her after she fled from the hospital on that fateful night, and she simply spilled her heart out to him. "Oh, lord, please no!" Molly muttered. _This must be God's cruel joke on me for all the sins I've committed,_ she thought angrily.

"Oh, god, Molly," Greg said frantically, "you need to-"

"-come over here and examine this body, because, after all, this is _your _case," a voice interrupted, mildly annoyed.

Both Greg and Molly turned to see Sherlock Holmes - in all his glory with the flapping coat and black trouser pants and shirt - standing with his arms crossed, glaring at Greg.

Molly realized belatedly that she embraced Lestrade, and she pulled back wildly. Molly went to open her mouth, but Greg cut her off.

"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing - calling Molly here when I'm sure you know she has a son at home," Greg fumed.

Sherlock looked at him indignantly, and Molly had to hold back a giggle at how much he looked like a pouting, three-year-old Theo. _Oh, lord, like father like son,_ she thought.

"I am perfectly aware that she has a son at home," Sherlock drawled, staring at Greg like he had a piece of information that he didn't, which he did. Molly knew where this was going. "After all, her son is-"

"Not here, Sherlock!" Molly snapped. "Not now!"

Sherlock looked at her with wide eyes, while Greg looked almost _bewildered_ at Molly's boldness. Sherlock went to open his mouth, but Molly cut him off, raising her hand. "Please don't, Sherlock," she said calmly, "I have no desire to argue with you here. I came here to do my job, and then go home. Nothing more."

Sherlock looked like he wanted to argue, and - to Molly's great surprise - he didn't. He simply nodded and said, "Follow me - both of you."

He turned on his heels and strode away, not waiting to see if they followed.

Greg turned to Molly as they walked slowly behind him and stammered out, "Molly Hooper, what have you done to Sherlock bloody Holmes?"

* * *

The gruesome murder was beyond humanity. The face of the young woman slashed and beaten to where she was unidentifiable, and Molly couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl's family. Not only would they have to bury their daughter, sister, lover, but they would have to bury her bloody and bruised.

It turned out that Molly wasn't really needed there. She took a few samples of tissue from the body at the scene and stuck them in her purse for safe keeping, but that was the end of her help. Sherlock walked around like owned the place - _Surprise, surprise, _Molly thought - barking orders at anyone and everyone... except for her. In fact, Sherlock completely ignored her after she pretty much told him to piss off when he was about to bring up Theo's parentage. Molly didn't understand his need to have her even there if he simply wasn't going to say anything to her.

It was almost five in the morning when the sun started to peak over the London buildings, and Molly decided she wanted to be home in time to cook breakfast for Theo. She went to Courtney, who stood off the side counting the evidence bags, and said, "I'm gonna go ahead and take off, okay?"

Courtney nodded. "That's fine. Thanks for coming by the way. When you showed up, Detective Holmes became a whole lot nicer to my crew and I."

Molly looked at her with wide eyes. "W-what?"

"It's true," Courtney insisted, turning her whole body to the elder doctor. "That bastard was being an absolute asshole until you showed up. Then it was smooth sailing. I think he has a thing for you," Courtney said, waggling her eyebrows. Molly could hardly breathe. "Have you two met before?"

Molly nodded dumbly. "Um, yes, er, Sherlock Holmes is Theo's father."

Courtney's eyes consumed her face, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline. "Lord Almighty, Molly, _he's_ the father?"

Molly nodded again.

"Jesus Christ, no wonder you left. He's an absolute _bother_," Courtney hissed.

Molly had to agree with her boss on that one. "I know."

* * *

Molly stood, trying to wave down a cab, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She whirled around, gasping, to look right at the chest of none other than Sherlock Holmes.

She sighed, her hand at her throat, and said, "What is it, Sherlock?"

"Why are you leaving?" he asked, his voice annoyed.

Molly glared at him. "Because I was not _needed_ at this crime scene, and I have a son at home that needs to eat unlike some people." She huffed and turned around, continuing to look for a cabby, when Sherlock whirled her around again.

"How is Theo?" he asked quietly. "Is he alright?"

Molly felt her throat tighten. She went straight to bed the night before, while he went for a walk. She hadn't talked to Theo since her breakdown. "I don't know," she replied truthfully, looking at her feet.

Sherlock let out a breath. It was almost a sigh but not quite. Molly looked at him in surprise when he spoke again. "I am sorry that he had to see me that way."

Molly nodded. "I am too."

They stood in an awkward silence for a moment before Sherlock spoke again. "Would you have told me if I had not found him?"

Molly debated on whether or not she wanted to answer. It was a legitimate question. A man had a right to know about his son. "Yes, I would have told you at the end of the summer a couple weeks before Theo and I had to leave."

Sherlock's brow furrowed. "Why so late?"

Molly gulped. "So if you hurt me again I could leave and not worry about having to see you."

Sherlock nodded but did not reply.

Molly turned back towards the street, waving her hand frantically to catch a cab when it was instead caught by Sherlock. He spun her around and held onto her shoulders to keep her from moving away.

"Molly," he said seriously, "I want to meet him properly."

She didn't know what to say. Sherlock kept her on her toes, and she did not know what to think. "W-when? How?"

Sherlock shrugged. "_Soon_, is all I know. Maybe a dinner..."

Molly shook her head. "Sherlock, Theo will find you eventually."

Her ex-lover looked at her with skeptical eyes. "What do you mean?"

Molly rolled her eyes at his skepticism. "Theo said he wants to know you, and he will go to you when he is ready. He's a strong minded boy. I just don't want to be involved with the process."

Sherlock stared at her with an unreadable expression. "Why don't you want to be involved?" he asked quietly.

"Because I don't want to be involved with you," Molly whispered.

Hurt flashed in Sherlock's eyes, and he released her instantaneously. "I-I understand, Molly," he muttered. He straightened, and his face became an unreadable mask again. "Good night, Molly Hooper."

Without another word and without waiting for her reply, Sherlock strode away from Molly, his shoulders slouched and his head hung low. Molly stared at the man numbly as he walked away from her, not knowing what to feel.

When she hailed a cab and was safely inside, she cried for the third time in three days over Sherlock Holmes. This time, however, she cried because, even through all he did to her, she was upset she hurt his feelings.

* * *

A/N: Well, you people are lucky reviewers to get a double update! I got such a response to the last chapter that I couldn't help but post this one. I am a bit iffy on how this chapter went, and I might rewrite it later. This is more of a filler chapter anyway, so I don't feel too bad about posting it. Part 12 will be when things get even more interesting. Lol. Leave you reviews please! I will mostly likely post Part 12 on Monday! You _might_ get it tomorrow, but I haven't written it yet, so don't get your hopes up! Thank you for your reviews again! xoxo a million times!

PS: I think I have a beta! Thanks to Kathmak!


	12. Part 12

**PART 12**

* * *

_When Theo woke up, his first instinct was to take a piss._ He hopped up and out of bed, groaning at his stiff leg muscles. As he wandered towards the bathroom, he thought absently about going for a jog. He was in cross country at Miami High, and running often cleared his head: something that would do him some good while in London, especially because of the craziness with his parents.

Theo snorted, rolling his eyes at the thought of his mother and father. _Yeah,_ he thought, _I could _really_ use a run._

After peeing, he stared at his reflection in the mirror as he brushed away his morning breath with a blue toothbrush. His blue-green eyes were red from sleep and his high cheekbones blotched from lying against his hand while he rested. He was shirtless, and he stared at the faint six pack on his abdomen. He knew that girls liked him at Miami High. However, none of them ever caught his attention.

_No one but Allie,_ his mind thought suddenly.

He spit out the minty toothpaste at the thought. Allie Watson certainly was different from anyone else he knew. He didn't know if it was her pretty green eyes filled with mischief that unnerved him, or if was her high, British voice that told him that she liked his full name (a name that many made fun of him endlessly for) better than his nickname. Maybe it was when she huffed at him and then proceeded to whip her hair at him with an air of sass. He didn't know why, but he knew once he sorted out things with his father that the first person who he would pursue a relationship with would be Allie Watson, all her of sauciness included.

He wiped his mouth with a hand towel and walked out of the bathroom. As he took the stairs two at a time, he smelled his mother frying one of her omelets, and he smiled widely. His mom hadn't made him an omelet in the longest time! When he entered the kitchen, he saw his short, pretty mother, her long, brown hair pulled up into a wild bun wearing a pair of black sweats and a gray tank-top. She was humming as she cooked.

"Hey, Mom," he greeted, making his presence known.

She turned around, rewarding him with a smile, and said, "Morning, hon. How did you sleep?

Theo could hear the worry in her voice, and his immediate thought was to soothe her fears. He hadn't thought about his father in anger, since John told him about his parents' romantic history. Theo decided he wanted to judge Sherlock on his actions towards his mother on his own when he spoke to him. "I slept fine, Mom," he said quietly. "I _am_ fine."

Molly bit her lip, looking at her son with observant eyes. He smiled at her warmly, and she relaxed her tense posture. "I am happy, dear."

Theo nodded. "I know, Mom."

His mother turned back to her cooking, flipping the omelet over to let the other side cook. "I am here only to make you breakfast, but then I am going to Bart's to work for a few hours."

He rolled his eyes at his mother. "There's a difference between my 'few hours' and your 'few hours,' Mom."

Molly laughed at that. "Okay, so I will probably be gone for a good ten hours. I only came back to make you breakfast and make sure you were okay." Theo could hear the lie in his mother's voice because of her biting tone. She left the crime scene for a different reason, but he didn't press her due to the way her shoulders tensed again as she gritted out the lie.

"Okay," Theo said, feigning a pout, "I guess I could manage." The fact that he had a whole day to himself didn't make Theo upset: no, just the opposite. He planned on making good use of his time without being under his mother's watchful eye. A thought entered his mind that made him scared and excited all at the same time: _meeting his father_.

Molly turned to wink at her son. "Yes, I am sure you could. I will leave money, because I am sure that you will not be in the flat all day." She grabbed a plate out of the cupboard, sparing him a glance with a pensive expression. "I know you will go wandering about. You have too much of your father in you to sit tight."

He didn't know how to respond. His mother basically implied that she knew what his plan was. "Mom..." he began, trailing off when his brain could not find the right words.

She stuck her hand out as she flipped the omelet again, making sure that both sides cooked evenly, in an effort to silence. "Theo, I know that you plan on meeting your father, and I told you I don't want to be involved. I will not stop you from seeing him, and I plan on letting it be _your_ decision to meet him: not his, not mine, _yours._ I will support you no matter what." She sighed. "You are my son, and I love you. _That's_ what counts."

Theo felt tears prick in his eyes. This was his mother, Molly Hooper - unyielding, undying love and the greatest kindness on Earth. Theo was proud to be her son, and everyday he thanked whatever higher power that existed that she was _his_ mother.

Molly placed his omelet in front of him with a smile that held no trace of tears. She kissed his crazy brown mop of hair gently and said, "Alrighty, I'm going to go change and go to work. Text me every couple hours so I don't worry."

"Okay, Mom," he mumbled, trying to keep the tears out of his voice.

Without another word, Molly went upstairs to change, leaving Theo to eat his omelet, as he lost himself in thought.

* * *

As Theo stared at the flat on Baker Street, he felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't _bad_, but it certainly wasn't good either. He felt jumpy, unsure of himself, and he let the self-doubt overwhelm him.

He first got this feeling when he called John on his phone, again surprising the doctor when he asked for Sherlock's address. John gave it to him willingly but cautioned him about how sketchy Sherlock's schedule was.

_"Don't be surprised to find he isn't home, Theo,"_ John had told him in a concerned voice.

Theo laughed and said that he would manage, just like he told his mother, but he couldn't help but wonder how this was going to work. How would his father react? Would he be pleasantly surprised. Would he be angrily surprised? Would he be surprised at all? The night that John had told him about Theo's parents' past, he also talked about how Theo's father had a habit of deducing people and their actions. Did his father already know what he was planning?

Theo hoped not. He would feel terribly foolish about hiding out in his father's front yard when Sherlock knew all along that he was out there.

Looking at all the windows, Theo was surprised that there was a light on in the kitchen. This was a sure sign that Sherlock _was_ home. Theo doubted that his father was stupid and careless enough to leave on his kitchen light when his flat was empty. Theo stood on the steps of the stairs that let to the door. He put his foot on each stair meticulously, not wanting to make any noise.

_You came here on your own terms,_ he thought, trying to calm himself. _You will enter on your own terms_.

His heart started to pound as he reached the last step. As he stood, both feet on the top stair, he knew that the moment he walked in that his family dynamic would change forever. His mother would go back to Miami at the end of the summer, and if Theo took the next step, he knew that he would most likely be spending his next summers in England with his father. Could he risk abandoning his mother?

_I will not abandon her,_ Theo thought confidently. _I will just be adding to my family._

He took the next step with a sureness that he did not know he possessed at the time, and he walked silently to the front door. _221b._ Theo took a deep breath, steadying himself as he put his finger against the doorbell. He touched it gently, not pressing hard enough to make it ring. He let out a shaky breath and pushed it.

A harsh _ding dong_ resounded inside the flat, and Theo heard faint footsteps from inside stop suddenly.

_Keep calm, Theodore,_ his mind - sounding eerily like his mother - told him. He listened to his conscience intently and held back a flinch as the door opened to reveal a dark, looming figure.

Theo could almost look his father in eye, and he felt rather than saw Sherlock's gaze upon him.

His father's figure moved out of the door to stand out on the platform with Theo. This was Theo's first good look at his father, and Theo knew immediately why his mother was so taken with him. Sherlock had this look about him that was otherworldly. Despite her history of reading porn-like novels, his mother matured and moved to supernatural literature. His father really _did_ look like an ethereal being, with high cheek bones, bright, cat-like eyes, and a tall, slender frame. The aura around Sherlock oozed confidence, arrogance, and... something else that Theo could not put his finger on.

"Theo..."

A voice echoed around Theo, and he could not help but jump back slightly. Theo let out a small gasp. _It's like talking to myself_, Theo thought wildly. It was true. Though Sherlock's voice sounded older, deeper, and more mature, Theo and his father shared the same baritone voice that many found striking and scary at the same time.

Theo didn't know if he could respond to his father. He's knees shook with anticipation, and his hands felt clammy, cold, and sweaty, but it turned out he didn't need to because his father continued, "You don't need to be afraid, Theo." Sherlock's voice was soft and charming, but Theo could feel another emotion lurking, hidden well in his father's aloof tone. To most, Theo decided as he watched his father's expressions, Sherlock's voice would be hard to read. To Theo's surprise, his father's voice sounded exactly like Theo's when he was trying to hide something. "I will not hurt you like I hurt your mother. I know that John has told you." Theo wanted to wince, but he held back the urge. He knew that he couldn't come straight out and talk about his mother to Sherlock. No, he had to wait.

Theo found his voice then. "John told you about our conversation?"

Sherlock shook his head, his graying black curls falling into his eyes. "No, but I know nonetheless." He smirked at his son, his voice holding his smile, and Theo let his own small grin play at his lips at his father's good-natured tone.

"So I guess you don't need me to tell you who I am, what my name is?" Theo asked, trying to keep away the trembling in his voice. They reached uncharted territory for both of them. Theo didn't know _how_ to talk to his father.

Sherlock shook his head, his smirk disappearing to form a serious expression. "No. I know who you are."

Theo felt a lump building in his throat. It was illogical to feel the need to cry, but Theo felt it anyway, and he allowed it. Theo mimicked his father's solemn face, trying to keep himself from letting out tears. "Who... who am I then?" he whispered quietly.

He did not know why, but Theo needed to hear his father say it - say that he was his son. It was physically clear to the world that Theo was a Holmes due the sharing of eyes, high cheekbones, and voice, but there was a difference between acknowledging that Theo was his child mentally and voicing it so that anyone else around them could hear it.

His father looked at him with his piercing eyes. Blue-green met blue-green in a powerful stare down, neither participant willing to look away. Theo, determined not to be the first one to blink, held his father's unnerving gaze with fire swirling in his eyes.

"You are Theodore John Hooper," Sherlock said quietly, his gaze softening as he murmured the words, "and you are my son."

* * *

A/N: Alrighty, father and son meet! I am _extremely_ anxious for how you all will react to this chapter, let me tell you! Leave your reviews please! Reviews are love!

PS: BIG THANKS FOR MY BETA, KATHMAK! Love you! Also, thank you all my reviewers for your support and continual reads! It shocks me that I have over one hundred reviews - OVER A HUNDRED! Sherlock kisses for all of you!


	13. Part 13

**PART 13**

* * *

_Pacing calmed Sherlock in a way that nothing else could._ Going into his mind palace was hazardous at the time, and smoking could only relax his body for so long before the urge came back to smoke another. It still surprised Sherlock to that day that he was once addicted to the disgusting habit for so long. It took him three years after Molly left to finally quit for good. Sherlock never had actual motivations to quit before, but a cancer scare caused him to reconsider the dirty habit. When it came right down to it, smoking was not logical at all. It was a habit - a physical sort of _sentiment_.

But Sherlock had fallen prey to sentiment before, and he was still falling for its tricks. He frowned openly to his flat, stopping his pace by his fireplace, leaning against it while one hand went to his chin. "Sentiment..." he drawled to the empty apartment, tapping his foot against the marble of the fireplace. He often did this now because he did not have John to relay information to on a moment's notice.

_Having John here would do me good,_ Sherlock thought to himself. It was true. John always had a way to help decipher Sherlock's puzzling emotions.

For a long time, Sherlock associated the words 'sentiment' and 'home' with John Watson, but that all changed when he started looking at Molly Hooper in another light all those years ago. Soon, Molly's words of 'drab' and 'girlish' changed into 'lovely' and 'pretty.' From there it only progressed. Sherlock hadn't realized the effect Molly Hooper had on him until he sat in that hospital bed staring at a blank white wall. He discovered in that hour or so before Molly came to tell him about her... feelings that he _missed_ her so terribly. That he no longer differentiated between 'Molly' with 'home', or '221b' without 'Molly.'

The realization of it all took its toll on him. It literally _terrified_ him how much Molly could make or break him, and his mind went into overdrive. Words, phrases, and pictures raced through his mind, erasing all rational thought and replacing it with vivid emotions and feelings. How could he let a woman - _a woman,_ and not even _the_ Woman at that - possess such unparalleled control over him? How could have mousy, small-breasted, small-mouthed Molly Hooper weave her way into his heart?

So when she had come to him, her eyes shining with unshed tears and her lips releasing words that adequately described what Sherlock was feeling, he panicked. He told her everything and anything he could think of that would hurt her, make her feelings towards him become the polar opposite, doing the only thing that he knew how to do and do well: hurt. His mouth worked without his mind, uttering insults left and right on anything that Molly did that caused him irritation. Half of the grievances were things he thought endearing about her, but he did not stop himself from letting her have it.

Realization set in when Molly slapped him clean across his face with tears running down her cheeks like a river as he sat in the hospital gown. She did not say anything back to him. Instead, she grabbed her bag - one that he'd bought for her on her birthday earlier that year while he was still hiding out in her flat looking for Moriarty - and fled the room. Sherlock sat numbly in the hospital bed. He faintly registered the stinging of his cheek, but his attention was focused on the door in which Molly - the woman he loved - escaped him out of.

That night could be classified as the worst night of Sherlock's life, but what happened that morning easily replaced it. Sherlock felt like retching when he saw Molly's sad, angry face when she whispered that she did not want him in her life. The resurfacing emotions had crashed upon him that Sherlock had to leave Molly standing on the corner of the street, so he could clear his mind before he said something stupid. The loneliness that he felt over the last fifteen years had come upon him the moment he saw his Molly Hooper in her morgue when he'd come to confront her about his son..._  
_

_Ding dong!_

Sherlock started, looking towards the door with wide eyes. He hadn't realized that he started pacing again until the doorbell startled him out of his thoughts. The moment he glanced at the door Sherlock knew who it was. Any of the Watsons would have bothered to knock and would have walked in without a moment's hesitation. Sherlock deduced that morning while he had semi-cradled Molly in his arms that she would not come knocking for him until he came knocking for her. That only left one more person...

Moving towards the door silently, Sherlock allowed himself one more moment of silence to himself. He knew that this evening would be filled with anything but silence, which was perfectly logical considering that the person on the other side of the door hardly knew him. He slowly put his hand on the doorknob and twisted, opening the door swiftly to reveal the tall, teenage boy with a curly brown mop of hair and Sherlock's blue-green eyes.

"Theo."

* * *

As Sherlock studied his son as they stood in his living room, the first thing he noticed was that Theo had Molly's cute, upturned nose. If Sherlock had imagined a son with his high cheek bones and eyes with Molly's nose, he would have thought the child a very ugly creature indeed, but Theo was not unpleasant to look at. Just the opposite, he was a very handsome boy, and Sherlock felt a surge of fatherly pride course through him knowing that Theo was no doubt desired by many young girls.

The second thing that caught his attention was that Theo's gaze did not waver when their eyes met. He met Sherlock's piercing looks head on, adding in his own fire into his eyes. Sherlock knew that Theo was a brave young man, and that he came here with the confidence that Sherlock would not reject him. His son was correct in his inference. The last thing Sherlock thought of when he discovered he had fathered a son was disowning him. Sherlock had many thoughts rushing through his mind as he tried to deduce the young man that stood on the Hooper driveway, but not a single one of those were menacing to the boy.

At the moment, Theo's gaze was locked on Sherlock's favorite, red sitting chair. Sherlock stood by the fireplace, analyzing his son's actions and facial expressions, observing as his son's eyes shifted around the living room.

"That chair..." Theo began, indicating to the red chair with his pointer finger, before trailing off.

Sherlock turned his head to the right a little, curious at to what his son was about to say. "Yes?"

"That chair is your favorite chair," Theo said confidently.

Sherlock blinked. "Indeed, it is."

He was just about to ask his son how he knew that was his favorite chair when Theo continued. "It is faded a lot more than the other chairs, and you naturally gravitate towards it, even though you are standing by the fireplace observing me." Theo took a seat at the tan couch across from the red chair. "You like to stand when you are trying to deduce someone," Theo noted, leaning back into the sofa. He looked at his for a moment before adding, "You don't think this couch is particularly comfortable. No, not at all, but John did when he still lived here. In fact, when you and John went to the furniture store, John was the one who picked this couch up. You often referred to it as his 'napping couch' because John slept here so often."

Sherlock restrained his jaw from dropping open at his son's completely accurate deduction. Another bolt of pride lanced through him at his son's brilliant mind.

_He is definitely a Holmes, _Sherlock thought confidently.

"You've hit every nail straight on the head," Sherlock said, keeping his voice as neutral as possible, "but I don't suspect you've come here to speak of such mundane things as which couch I find uncomfortable and which is my favorite." Sherlock let his own deduction slip from his lips with ease and smiled triumphantly when his son's eyes widened considerably at his prediction.

Theo shook his head. "Why am I surprised that you know what I've come here to speak of?" His son let out a chuckle. "But you are right. I am here to discuss two things with you: our future relationship and your past and current feelings towards my mother."

As much as he wished to, Sherlock could not hold back the wince at the mentioning of Molly. He looked to Theo, who stared at him stoically, not letting any emotion slip through his careful facade. "I do not know why _I_ am surprised at your wanting to know of my feelings towards Molly," Sherlock replied carefully.

Theo nodded. "You mentioned before that you know I've talked to John, and I have heard of what transpired between yourself and my mother." Sherlock could hear traces of faint anger in his son's deep, baritone voice that sounded so much like Sherlock's own, and he could not oppress the deep shame that flowed through him. "I want to know why you said the things that you did before we even speak of a relationship between the two of us. I need to know your reasons for hurting the way you did before I can let you into both our lives because, no matter what my mother has said to me or _you_, Mom will see you no matter what."

Sherlock's eyes widened at Theo's mention of Molly speaking to him. "How do you know she's expressed to me her wants to stay out of our relationships?"

"So I am right?" Theo asked, smiling triumphantly.

Sherlock could not control his jaw as it dropped, physically displaying his shock at Theo one-upping him. His son was far more clever than Sherlock thought. He closed his mouth with an audible _snap _and replied, "It is not easy to explain why I said those things to your mother, but I can truly say that I am sorry for what I said to her."

Theo shook his head. "Not good enough. I need you to tell me what your motives were."

Sherlock locked his jaw. Telling Theo his reasons for hurting Molly meant admitting his fear that he felt then and still felt now. Sherlock's pride caused him to shy away from talking about it. "It is not easily explained," he repeated through gritting teeth.

His son stared at him for a moment. Sherlock could practically see the wheels turning in Theo's head as he thought about what to do. "Fine, you don't need to tell me what motivated you to hurt her," Theo said slowly, as if deciding what he wanted while he spoke, "but I want to know your feelings towards her at the moment."

Sherlock looked at his son with a cautious look. "Why?"

"Just answer the question," Theo said impatiently.

Glancing away from his son, Sherlock thought about what his feelings actually _were_. His sentiment towards Molly was so complicated that it hurt his head to actually examine the bond in detail. Molly was the woman who took his virginity, showed up what it felt like to be loved both physically and romantically. She caused him to see the goodness in love and having another person to share hardships with. She also gave birth to his only child - a son that was more beautiful than anything Sherlock had ever seen - and raised him heroically without him.

"I care for your mother," Sherlock whispered to Theo, looking down at the floor beneath his feet.

Theo pressed further. "Are you positive?"

Sherlock looked at his son directly and clearly stated, "I am positive."

A smile so bright and triumphant lit up his son's face, reminding Sherlock faintly of Molly's blinding smile, and Theo nodded happily. "Good."

Sherlock raised a brow. "Why do you want to know?"

Theo looked at his father with a look Sherlock could not quite recognize. "Reasons that I am not ready to share," Theo replied carefully.

"I do not quite understand, but I am sure I will," Sherlock muttered, baffled by his son's puzzling words.

"You might," Theo said softly, looking at Sherlock with an intense expression. "I have another question."

"Yes?"

"Do you want me in your life?" Sherlock could clearly hear the tremble in his son's voice. Sherlock thought that his son knew to a degree that Sherlock desired him to be in his life, but self-consciousness managed to creep into anyone's mind.

Sherlock felt a desire to immediately dismiss his son's worry. "Yes, Theo, I want you in my life. You are my son, and I desire to know you."

Theo nodded. "Would you have desired to know me if you knew I existed fifteen years ago?"

Sherlock swallowed hard. He wanted to answer truthfully, but he knew that the answer was selfish and cruel. "Answering that question could cause you to not like me," he said carefully.

Theo stared at him intensely. "I still want the answer."

"Your mother did the right thing by hiding you from me, Theo," Sherlock murmured softly. "I am not the same man I was fifteen years ago. I cared for your mother back then, but I was... too immature to be a father then." The words burned in Sherlock's throat as he threw his pride to the ground to let his son know the truth. "But I am a different person today, and I know that I can handle knowing I have a son." It was then that Sherlock decided that he believed his own words. Theo was his son, and Sherlock was his father.

_It is time to grow up, Sherlock Holmes,_ he thought.

* * *

A/N: I don't know how I feel about this chapter. It feels rushed in someway. It may be revised later, but for right now I don't want to deprive you of another chapter. Leave your thoughts! Constructive criticism is always welcome!

PS: Thanks to my beta, Kathmak, again.


	14. Part 14

**PART 14**

* * *

_Molly was just about ready to pull her hair out._ She sat on a squeaky, wooden stool - the same one she used fifteen years ago - as she looks through the paperwork on the latest victim. Courtney said that the man who killed the Thorntons also was a suspect in this killing. However, it made no sense for this victim, a 24-year-old male who had no connections with the suspect other that they worked at the same place for a month.

Her head hurt as she tried to think of a connection between the two, but her mind was on other things, like Theo's possible meeting with Sherlock. Molly sighed as she tossed the pen and blank paper she had in her hands onto the desk. Everything seemed to go back to Sherlock in one way or another. If she wasn't thinking about Theo, she was thinking about Sherlock, and if she wasn't thinking about Sherlock, she was sleeping and not thinking at all. She was so... _attached_ to them both that it was unhealthy. Molly knew was too dependent on Theo.

_I have depended on him to keep me sane,_ Molly thought, _and now he is going to someone else, a different parent._

Molly felt tears start to well up in her eyes. She was thinking irrationally; she knew this. She did, deep in her heart, _want_ Theo to know Sherlock. Every child should know their father, but she could not help but have a feeling that Theo would identify more with Sherlock than with her. It was a plausible idea. After all, Theo was almost a mini-Sherlock with her hair and nose. She had no doubt that Sherlock, being a man, could answer questions and help Theo in ways Molly never could. As much as it pained her to admit it, Molly knew she could not raise Theo on her own any longer. Her son - her handsome, compassionate, understanding boy - was no longer a baby, and he needed a man to teach him things, to be involved in his life._  
_

A string of tears exited Molly's eyes, and she took a shaky breath. "So much crying lately," she grumbled to herself. She hadn't cried so often since she was pregnant with Theo, and it mentally drained her every time she did. Molly knew that she would have to get help dealing with her feelings, no matter how painful. She put away her feelings for so long, and now they were coming to haunt her. She distracted herself from her father's death with her job, and then when she met Sherlock, she distracted herself from the loneliness at work with her love for him. When Sherlock disappeared from her life, she focused her attention on raising her son. Her son was about to stop needing her, and nothing was left to adequately distract Molly. Her old ways of living were coming to an end, and she knew that the transition from having Theo all to herself to having to share him would be a hard one.

"Molly?" a concerned voice asked, breaking her from her inner thoughts. She looked up to see John Watson standing in the doorway with an anxious expression on her face. She made no attempt at hiding her tears and let out a small whimper. "Oh, Molly," John continued, walking towards her to put his arms around her, "what's wrong, dear?" She buried her face into John's chest, letting herself feel the comfort of another human being. She hadn't been held by anyone but her son for fifteen years, and it was nice to feel the security of another adult human being.

"I-I have just realized that Theo is no longer just mine," she mumbled against his jacket. No doubt she was getting her salty tears and mucus all over him. She made a move to pull away, but John gripped her tighter, hugging her to him. Molly was about six inches shorter than John, so she could not fight him.

She collapsed against him, letting her tears flow freely now. Molly knew that John would never judge her; no, he was not that kind of person. He would hold her and let her cry until she was ready to speak. "I-I just, I've realized I've become so dependent on Theo, on having to stay stable for _him_, that I've forgotten how to live independently, and n-now, he's going to know Sherlock. H-he's going to be s-spending so much _time_..." She trailed off, letting herself sob.

John gently ran his fingers down her hair, a comforting motion, and Molly felt rather than heard him speak. "Molly, it's okay to be upset that your son is growing up, and I understand the feeling because I have my Allie." He sighed. "However, I've never had to deal with sharing my child with a person I do not particularly like. Mary and I both decided to have children together, and we both love each other very much."

Molly nodded, pulling her head from John's chest to wipe her eyes and nose with her fingers. John stretched his arm towards the desk and handed her a tissue that he grabbed. She thanked him timidly before continuing, "I feel as if I have relied on Theo to keep my from falling apart. Now that he doesn't particularly need my help anymore, I feel myself ripping at the seams." She sniffed.

John shook his head. "Oh, Molly, you've been through so much. Sherlock played mind games with you for so long, and then when you finally thought that you'd gotten his heart, he broke yours. You move to a country where you don't know anyone and find yourself pregnant with the baby of the man who told you to go away. Now, fifteen years later, that baby is three years away from being an adult and wants to see the man who hurt you." John looked at her with his kind blue eyes and smiled softly. "It's okay to feel devastated. You've had to stay strong for so long."

She sniffed. "I-I still don't know what I should do. I can't break down every time Theo and Sherlock decide to spend time together."

John nodded at that. "Maybe you should see a therapist." He shrugged. "You know, I'm not the best at knowing what a woman is thinking, but I know someone who is - Mary." Molly looked at him curiously. "My original intent on coming here was to ask you if you and Theo would join Mary, the kids, and me for dinner tomorrow evening. It is customary for my family and Sherlock to have dinner once every couple weeks." John tried to go for an air of nonchalance, but Molly could tell that he desperately wanted her to come and meet his wife and family.

Molly nodded, thinking it over. "Sherlock will be there?" she asked hesitantly.

John seemed to deflate slightly. "Yes, and I know that you do not particularly want to subject yourself to him, but-"

She cut him off with her hand. "He is the father of my son, and I am bound to see him sooner or later. I'll come, and I know without a doubt that Theo will want to come."

"Really?" John asked with a smile.

Molly nodded, smiling meekly back. "Really."

* * *

"That doesn't make any sense!" Theo argued, crossing his arms indignantly.

Sherlock glared at his son with his blue-green eyes. "It makes perfect sense. Of _course_ it would be the doctor who killed her!"

Both Holmes men sat on the uncomfortable napping couch watching the screen. They lounged lazily, their long, slender legs splayed out in front of them, watching the crappy television show with judgmental eyes. They currently tried to deduce the outcome of the show. Theo believed that the suspicious ex-boyfriend did it, while Sherlock was dead set on the shifty doctor. Both of them were locked in a battle of the wits.

The two had been sitting on the couch for at least four hours, both of them making small talk and getting to know each other. The tense faded from both of the Holmes' shoulders, and the energy became relaxed. Theo was surprised how easily they talked. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this easy going talk.

Theo looked at the television screen suspiciously, watching the TV characters talk among themselves on who killed the latest victim. "No, that's not possible!" he insisted. "He was with Detective Izzy when she was supposedly murdered!"

Sherlock looked amused. "Have you ever thought that the cornier - who was an amateur, by the way - got the time frame in which she supposedly died wrong?"

Theo's eyes widened, looking at the television screen then back at his father. "I-I never thought about that."

"Of course you didn't," Sherlock replied mildly, turning his gaze back to the screen.

Theo watched his father closely. _He bested me this round_, he thought to himself. He turned to look out the window. Theo had been beyond proud of himself when he had deduced his father, even if he had gotten that little bit of information about the 'napping couch' from John himself. Sherlock did not need to know that, however. Theo was content with letting Sherlock think that Theo had gotten that from observation.

"Ha, I told you!" Sherlock said suddenly.

The younger Holmes stared at the screen with a put out expression as the lead detective cuffed the doctor. "Damn it all to hell!" Theo growled, standing up.

Sherlock simply stared at his son with a satisfied smile. "I win."

"We are watching another episode," Theo hissed. He walked to the kitchen. "Do you have water?" he called to his father.

Theo could practically _hear_ Sherlock rolling his eyes. "Am I a human, Theo?"

"Yes."

"Then of course I have water in the house. Look in the fridge."

Theo walked over the old, beaten up fridge. He opened it lazily, planning on grabbing a bottle of water, but he stopped short when he saw something very... _interesting_ - a bag of toes. He let out a shaky breath before shouting, "Um, do you _always_ have a bag of toes in your fridge?"

A hand tapped his shoulder. Theo whipped around to see his father looking at him apprehensively. "I am sorry," his father whispered softly. "I did not realize that those were still in there."

"So... you always have toes in your fridge?"

Sherlock cracked a smile. "No. The body parts vary on my mood."

Theo's jaw dropped. "Wait... _body parts?_"

His father's grin widened. "Yes, indeed. Your mother used to supply me to me for my experiments." He let out a chuckle. "She always gave the best body parts."

Theo's eyes widened comically. He watched his father with a shocked expression before shaking his head. "You know what, why am I surprised? Mom was always quirky and weird, and you... you're just _you_. Seriously, no wonder you guys love each other."

Sherlock gazed at his son, his expression unreadable. Theo realized what he'd just said and covered his mouth with his hand. Before Theo could apologize, a loud _ding!_ resounded through the kitchen.

"That is probably your mother," Sherlock said quietly.

Theo nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket. His father was right.

_Everything going okay? x Mom_

Theo tapped at his phone quickly. _Everything is fine... I have a lot to tell you. -T_

The reply was almost instantaneous. _...What did you do?_

Theo let out a laugh. _I didn't do anything wrong! -T_

_Good. We are having dinner at the Watsons' tomorrow. Are you okay? __x Mom_

He felt his heart race. Going to the Watsons meant seeing Allie. _That's fine. -T_

_Okay. I will be home in an hour. See you then. x Mom_

Theo sighed, pocketing his phone. He looked up to see his father watching him closely. "I need to go soon," Theo said quietly.

Sherlock nodded. "Only normal that your mother wants you home."

"She doesn't know I am here," Theo said quietly. "I was going to tell her when she gets home from work."

"Molly is working?" Sherlock asked.

Theo nodded. "Yeah, she's working. I don't think my mom is capable of _not_ working."

Sherlock grunted, nodding sharply, gazing away to look at a wall. He glanced back at his son. "Do you want to visit me again?" his father asked quietly.

Theo bit his lip than nodded. "Yeah, I do. I had... fun."

Sherlock smiled widely. "Did you now?"

"Yeah, I did."

"When do you want to?"

Theo shrugged. "Why don't you text me when you're free, and I'll come over whenever you text me..." Theo paused, hesitating before he asked his unspoken question. "Can I have your number?"

Sherlock listed off a number, and Theo tapped it in. "Got everything you need?" Sherlock asked awkwardly.

"Yeah." Theo's voice was just as awkward.

Sherlock walked his son to the door in silence. Theo opened it with a sigh and turned to look at his father. "See you... whenever you want to see me."

"You will see me soon," Sherlock promised with a smile.

* * *

A/N: Alrighty, I hope you guys enjoyed the next installment! Leave your thoughts, opinions, etc.! It was surprisingly fun writing Sherlock and Theo talking. What do you guys think about the the dinner at the Watsons? Should be interesting, huh?

ANNOUNCEMENT: I am going to be updating only on Thursdays now. A family matter took me away from the computer this last Monday, and there will be no update next Thursday. Sorry, but as much as I love you all, I have to say family goes first.

PS: BIG THANKS TO MY BETA KATHMAK! She's such a dear!


	15. Part 15

**PART 15**

* * *

_The first thing Molly did when she got home was take a shower._ She felt hot and muggy and grimy, even though she had taken a shower within the last 24 hours. Exhaustion saturated her body and mind, and she found herself relaxing enormously under the hot spray of the shower. Her muscles unclenched, and she rolled her shoulders more than once as she washed her hair.

After a once over with her sweet smelling body soap, Molly rinsed her hair and washed off her body. Halfheartedly turning off the shower, Molly reached for a fluffy towel from her mint green set that Theo had bought her for her birthday a few years ago with is allowance money. She couldn't bear to leave behind those pretty towels, and she giggled softly to herself when she remembered Theo's reaction.

_"You're taking those?" Theo asked, pointing his finger at Molly's open suitcase._

_Molly nodded. "Well, yes."_

_"Why?"_

_His question was so dry, so critical, so _Sherlock_, that Molly felt her heart ache and clench in remembrance of a different life, a life before she had her son. It was a life she missed but never wished to have again._

_"Because I like them..." Molly replied indignantly. It was the truth, plain and simple, and she liked the way they made her feel - happy, free, and light, like she was floating on a cloud. She knew that she would need these for the upcoming trip. No way was she parting from her comforting towels._

_Theo shook his head, letting out a small chuckle. "As much as I love you, Mom, you're weird." He grinned boyishly, a grin that reminded Molly of her brother, Edward._

_"Says the boy who is bringing his ted," Molly shot back. She remembered the brown teddy bear that she had bought on a whim at a baby store right after the ultrasound that informed her she was carrying a baby boy. She had been shopping in a rather large shopping center for maternity clothes and had seen the little teddy sitting in the window. She couldn't help but buy it; it was so perfect, and it reminded of the one she once had when she was a tot._

_Her son's face reddened, the tip of his ears shining visibly crimson under his brown curls. "I've had Arnold since I was a baby." His voice was defensive, but his body language radiated embarrassment._

_Molly let out a long laugh. "You had Arnold before you were born. I should know, I bought him!"_

The memory flooded her mind, and the urge to cry returned with a vengeance. Life was so simple back then, when it was just her taking care of herself and the baby growing inside of her. Though she loved the grown-up Theodore Hooper, loved him more than words could describe, there was something about holding your tiny, newborn baby boy in your arms, watching him as he stared up at you with beautiful, crystalline eyes, that was something of its own entirely.

She let out a shaky sigh, trying to regain herself. The tears pricking in her eyes gradually receded, and she went on with her normal routine.

* * *

By the time she was completely done and redressed, Theo was home. Her son lied on the couch, lounging lazily. His hair was tousled from the wind - Molly was thinking that a thunderstorm was about to hit - and his black jacket was slightly wet from the drizzle that rained from the heavens.

The ten seconds of silence as the two - mother and son - stared at each other were uncomfortable and excruciating for both parties. Theo's relaxed position had changed into a stick-straight back and tense shoulders. He knew _she_ knew where he had been; there was no doubt in her mind that he had been with Sherlock. The emotions that flew through her heart and the thoughts that raced through her mind were nonsensical and distorted. It was unfair and irrational to be upset with him for visiting his father, and Molly immediately put to rest the ill will she felt in her heart.

_He is entitled to visit his father, and I should not complain. I got him for almost fifteen years,_ Molly thought.

Theo was the first to speak.

"What's for dinner?" The question was too strained to be casual, and Molly could tell from her son's body language and tone of voice that he longed to tell her of his day with his father.

Molly sighed, but she did not know what exactly for. "Probably spaghetti," she replied, the small smile on her face sheepish. "I don't really feel like cooking."

Theo nodded. "How was work?"

_He's definitely making an effort at being casual, asking all the usual questions, _Molly noted. If it had been different circumstances, Molly would have laughed heartily at her son. _He's acting like he does when he has gotten into trouble at school!_

She shrugged. "It was fine." In actuality, she had sobbed like a baby, practically slobbering all over John as he held her shaking figure. She mentally snorted, _I've had much better days - much, much better days._ She knew her voice was a little off, half because she was a terribly liar and half because of the turmoil of feelings that welled up inside of her at the thought of Theo seeing Sherlock.

"'Fine,' huh?" Theo questioned, unimpressed. He didn't press her though, something Molly was grateful for, and instead followed her into the kitchen and stood near the entryway as she got out the necessary things to prepare spaghetti.

Molly knew what was coming. She could feel it in her bones, but she waited for Theo to bring it up. Upset or not, Molly was going to listen to her son talk about his father with a smile, no matter how fake it was. Molly's upset feelings were secondary to Theo's happiness, and if Theo's happiness came from Sherlock, then Molly would respect that and feel happy for her son, though not herself.

She was halfway through boiling the water when her son finally spoke up. "I-I did something today." His voice was feeble and small, reminding Molly of how she used to speak in another life, a life before Theo and before heartbreak.

Molly pulled the end of her ponytail absently as she glanced from the pot of water to her son's blue-green eyes. She couldn't help but smile softly at his deer-in-headlights look. He hadn't even told her anything, and he was already nervous. "Well, I prefer you did something over nothing," Molly replied calmly, stuffing her unwanted emotions into the little black box in the recesses of her mind.

_I'll deal with that messy jumble later,_ she promised herself.

Theo stared at her, his eyes wide and cautious and, frankly, alarmed. "Bu-but I'm worried you won't like that 'something' I have been doing."

"Should I not like that 'something?'" Molly asked quizzically, raising a brow. Maybe she was wrong; maybe he didn't go to Sherlock's and got into trouble instead. No matter how upset she got over having to share her son, Molly would prefer Theo be under the supervision of Sherlock - no matter how unreliable it could possibly be - than no supervision at all. Molly _hoped_ that Sherlock had enough common sense to know how to adequately monitor a child. The few times she had seen him with a child in the past did nothing to recommend him, that was for sure.

"Well, no..."

"Theo, what did you do?" Worry was seeping into her like water into a sponge. "Are police going to show up at my door demanding to see the juvenile delinquent who spray painted 'asshole' on the principal's car like last year?" Molly had been so irate with Theo that she practically threw up out the second story window. Granted, his principal truly was a complete jerk, but she didn't condone vandalism.

"No!" Theo's defensive voice was two octaves higher than normal, and Molly's worry was quenched at her son's expression. "Plus, we both know that Mr. Wieners deserved it!"

Molly shook her head. "Mr. _Williams_ may not have been the nicest person, but his car was not the asshole." Her son's laugh caused her to smile, and she joined in for a moment, thankful for a distraction from the real problem. Plus, laughing was good. It felt nice to laugh for once; Molly had been crying so often lately that she felt like that was all she ever did.

After a moment of silence, Molly asked, "So what is the real 'something' you did?" as she turned back to the now boiling pot to shake in the long, angel hair pasta noodles.

Theo was silent, and Molly did not rush him. She halfheartedly stirred the pasta, absently chewing on her lip. The ten minutes of quiet were not awkward, but it certainly wasn't comfortable either.

"I met him today, Mommy. I met my father..." Her son's small voice caused her to place the wooden spoon onto the counter and turn and face him. He had called her 'mommy,' something he only did when he was overwhelmed by his emotions or was scared. She watched as he stared at her with his beautiful crystalline eyes.

"Theo, honey, what's wrong?" she asked immediately at the sight of the unshed tears in his eyes. She walked up to him, looking up at his face since he was so much taller than she. He said nothing, just looked at her, and Molly grew anxious. "Sweetheart, you need to tell me. Did he say something to you?"

Theo finally moved, causing Molly to breathe a sigh of relief. He shook his head hurriedly. "N-no, he didn't. I-I had fun, b-but..." He trailed off, and Molly placed her hand on his cheek.

"'But' what, my dear?" she asked gently.

"But nothing really," Theo replied shakily. "I don't know why I feel like this. He was funny and kind and a little bit of an ass-"

"Theodore," she cut him off disapprovingly.

"What? You just said 'asshole' not even thirty minutes ago," Theo shrugged. "Anyway, he... he's sorta like me. I mean we do the same things and kinda talk the same way." Molly smiled softly. Was she surprised that Sherlock and Theo got along? Not really. She couldn't enjoy it as much as she wished she could because of her experience with Sherlock, but she wasn't going to spoil her son's fun. "We even do the same thing to TV shows."

Molly groaned. "Oh my god, you _both_ do that?" It irritated her to no end when Theo would deduce the end of her television shows, spoiling it for her, and he often did it just to get a reaction from her. "Lord, why am I not surprised?"

Letting out a quick laugh, Theo patted his mother's shoulder. The tears in his blue-green eyes were receding, and Molly was thankful. She smiled up at him, but her expression grew serious when she saw his solemn face. "Are you..." he began, trailing off before beginning again. "Are you going to be okay with this - truly?"

Molly rubbed her son's cheek soothingly before answering. She chose her words carefully as to not to lie to him. "Sweetheart, I am happy that you and your father are getting along, truly I am. You deserve to know him, and he deserves to know you. I kept you from him for almost fifteen years, something that I have mixed feelings about. I'm not sure if I regret it or not, but I will get there." She stroked his cheek one last time before removing her hand. She smiled softly. "I am okay with you seeing him, just don't forget about your little, old mother at home."

Theo nodded, looking at the ground between them for a moment. He glanced up and her and pulled her into a hug. "I love you, Mom," he whispered into her ear, "and the last thing I'm going to is forget about you."

And, in her son's embrace, Molly let the tears fall.

* * *

A/N: Alright guys, I will post this a day early for you because you've all waited so long. Sorry for the delay! I hope I haven't lost all of you guys! It has been a trying time for my family and me, but I am back to weekly updates now! Yay! I hope you enjoy this chapter, even if it is a filler chapter. Next week is the dinner party! Wonder what will happen between Sherlock an Molly... well _I_ don't have to wonder, considering I am the author. LOL. xD Have a wonderful week and thanks for all the reviews!

xx Carly


	16. Part 16

**PART 16**

* * *

_5:30_  
_Are you coming to dinner tomorrow? -JW_

_5:31  
Who is going to be there? -SH_

_5:32  
Bloody Anderson. Jesus, Sherlock, who do you think? -JW_

_5:33  
Who is going to be there? -SH_

_5:35  
Theo, Molly, and my family. -JW_

_5:45  
I will be there at 6:30. -SH_

* * *

Molly did not know what to expect, truthfully. She didn't know how Sherlock would react, and, in that, she had no idea how _she_ was going to react. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she and Theo sat idle in the rental car in front of a stop light. Theo was tapping his fingertips rapidly on his phone to one of his friends back in Miami, his lips pursed and his brows furrowed in concentration. She felt her heart skip a beat.

_So like his father..._ she thought wistfully.

Holding back a sigh, she shook her head. Everything seemed to be leading back to Sherlock these days. After their hugging session, Theo spent the whole afternoon telling Molly of his day with his father. She didn't know whether to be surprised or relieved that Sherlock so readily spent time with his son. The relief definitely outweighed the surprise. The knowledge that Theo would not have to suffer the rejection of his father lifted a large weight off of her shoulders, and Molly could breathe a little easier. Her thoughts at the time were that at least there was no tension between father and son, no matter how tense it was between her and Sherlock.

"Mom, the light's green!" Theo's strangled voice broke Molly out of her thoughts.

"Oh, shit!" Molly pressed the gas pedal quickly, catching up to the cars in front of her. Her heart raced as she cursed herself for so easily becoming distracted.

"What planet were you on?" her son asked. His voice was cautious, as if he didn't know whether to be concerned or laugh at her.

Molly grimaced. "Planet Clueless, apparently." Her attempt at a joke made her wince.

Theo let out a laugh. "You shouldn't try and joke, Mom. It doesn't work out well."

"As I have been told more than once." She tried to camouflage the bitterness in her voice as sarcasm, but she had a feeling that her observant son caught on. She turned to glance at him with what she hoped was a sarcastic smirk on her face and opened her mouth to try and lighten the mood, but she stopped dead when she saw the piercing look in his crystalline eyes. She quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks heating.

_Why am I blushing?_ her mind moaned. _Why, why, why, why?_

She waited silently, her eyes focused on the road only moving away to glance at the little piece of paper that told her the directions to the Watsons, waiting for Theo to question her. As the minutes dragged on, her shoulders relaxed and her pulse returned to normal. They were almost to John and Mary's, and Molly couldn't help but widen her eyes when she realized she was actually _looking forward_ to the dinner. Molly could hardly wait to meet Mary, Allie, Tanner, and Eric. John had spoken of them with such love before Sherlock interrupted them.

_Sherlock..._

Her mouth twisted down into a frown. Molly didn't know if Sherlock knew she was going to be there, or how he would react when he saw her. Their last meeting wasn't exactly pleasant, though it was entirely Molly's fault. She had purposely hurt his feelings, even though he had it coming, and she didn't know whether or not _he_ wanted to talk to _her._

The uncertainty of the whole situation irritated Molly to no end, and she resisted the urge to grumble about annoying emotions and bothersome head detectives.

* * *

Molly could not help but smile when she saw Allie, Eric, Tanner, and Theo talking animatedly in the living room. Well, more like _Allie_ was talking animatedly while her twin brothers - who looked so alike that it was _scary_ - just watching at her with boredom in their eyes. Theo, however, was staring at her, his expression a mixture of awe and confusion. Molly giggled when she saw Theo flinch at one of Allie's erratic hand gestures, causing the talkative girl and the two ten-year-old boys to pause and look at him quizzically.

"Your son doesn't seem to know what to make of Allie," a feminine voice said behind her.

Molly turned to see Mary, John's pretty, blonde wife, smirking at the pair of teenagers across the room and smiled. "Oh, I am sure that he is absolutely clueless on how to handle her. He's popular at school and used to attention from girls, but I don't think he's ever been one-upped by one before," Molly replied. From the first moment Molly met Mary, she decided she liked her. Mary was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside, and Molly yearned for a friendship between them.

"'One-upped?'" Mary asked, raising a brow.

Another wide smile appeared on Molly's face. "Usually it is Theo who does the talking. He likes being the center of attention, something he certainly didn't inherit from me."

Mary's eyes widened at Molly blatant referral to Theo being like Sherlock. "Yes, Sherlock does like all eyes on him, doesn't he?"

Molly rolled her eyes and nodded. "Without a doubt." She glanced over at the front door, wondering when the man is question would show up. The food was nearly ready, and though Sherlock was many things, late was not one of them.

Catching her eyeing the door, Mary said, "Sherlock told John that he would arrive at 6:30."

Molly felt her face turn crimson. "I-I w-wasn't," she stuttered, even though she really actually _was._

Mary winked at her. "Sure, dear, whatever you say." The pretty blonde turned around, heading towards the kitchen. "Will you help me prepare the food?"

"Um, s-sure," Molly mumbled.

Her face gradually returned to its normal color as she helped Mary in the kitchen. They talked idly and comfortably, broaching different subjects and exchanging opinions. They stood in the kitchen, preparing everything, and were discussing Molly's line of work - Mary, much to Molly's delight, was a nurse practitioner and no stranger to blood and guts - when there was a loud knock at the door.

Molly froze where she was, the three plates she was getting out of the cabinet in her hands, and glanced up at Mary, who was watching her closely. Panic welled up into her stomach, and her mind went blank with worry and anxiety as her gaze left the blonde woman to look at the door. It was dead silent in the house for a moment, but then the sound of Eric's and Tanner's shrill voices wracked through the house.

"Eric Thomas and Tanner Lawrence, keep your voices down! The hardwood floors carry!" Mary reprimanded loudly. Molly just stood staring at the door, unsure what to do. Mary turned to her and frowned. "Are you ready to do this?" she asked, her voice serious.

_No, I am not. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Absolutely not._ "Yes."

Mary nodded. "Alright, let's go greet Sherlock."

* * *

Molly and Theo stood at the back of the crowd with John and Mary while Eric and Tanner both fought to see who could open the door. When the it finally swung open, all three Watson children simultaneously said, "Uncle Sherlock!"

"Hello." His baritone voice caused Molly to shiver involuntarily, earning her a look from Theo, whose eyes were cautious and careful. The sound of Sherlock's tread entering the doorway and the squeak of the door closing seemed incredibly loud, and Molly kept her eyes glued to the floor as Sherlock continued to speak.

"Well, Eric, you've seem to grown an inch since last I saw you, so you are one inch closer to being as tall as your father. Ah, Tanner, your hair is longer and you are still the same height, though you are taller than Eric. And, my dear Allie, your eyes are wide and bright with excitement, and your smile is bigger than usual. Still very pretty, as usual."

His voice was so teasing, so carefree, so _emotional_ that Molly felt her mouth gape as she studied the floor. _Sherlock_ said all that? The same Sherlock that told her to leave after she'd told him 'I love you'? _THAT_ one?

_How is this possible?_ she thought, her eyes wide.

Theo moved beside her, stepping forward a couple steps, causing her gaze to flicker up automatically. She didn't know what to think when she saw that his eyes were still cautious when he met his father's gaze.

"Hello, Father."

"Hello, Theo," Sherlock replied, his voice lower, more serious, than it was with the Watson children.

She could feel his gaze on her, and she hazarded a glance up and saw him standing a couple feet away from her, his beautiful eyes on her. Molly felt her cheeks turn red, and she quickly looked away. Her heart was going a million miles an hour and her breathing hitched.

_Damn it, Molly! Every time without fail!_ His effect on her was profound, and Molly hated it.

There was an awkward silence as the Watsons and Theo stared at Sherlock who was staring at Molly. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor and felt like crying in joy when John finally broke the ice.

"Well," John said, clapping his hands, "time to eat!"

* * *

Molly sat with Mary on her left and Eric on her right. Theo was seated next to Sherlock, who was across from Molly, and John, who was at the head of the table. She mostly kept to herself, listening to the conversations and keeping her eyes on her plate. She picked at the food in front of her and tried with all her might not to blush. Molly could _feel_ Sherlock's gaze on her, and all she wanted to do was disappear.

"So, Molly," Mary said loudly, clearly intending to draw her into the conversation, "where have you been living?"

Molly looked up from her plate and glanced around at the horde of people who were looking at her curiously, save for Theo, who already knew where they had been living, and Sherlock. Sherlock's heated gaze was void of any emotion, and one glance at him was enough for Molly.

"I, er, I mean, _we_ have been living in Miami, Florida."

"Miami?" Allie asked curiously. She was on the opposite end of the table with Eric and Tanner. "That's so far." A frown formed on her face.

"And hot," Theo added irritably. "Being in England's weather makes me wonder how Mom ever survived."

The whole table let out small laughs, while Molly chuckled nervously and blushed even more.

"Er, yes, it was an... adjustment," she agreed, pushing the broccoli around on her plate. "But I made it work. After all, I had to earn respect at my new job, and then finding out that I was pregnant with Theo..." She trailed off, her eyes widening with horror.

_Oh, stupid, stupid, STUPID Molly! Why did you bring _that_ up?_

Her eyes flickered upwards, and Sherlock's gaze met her own. His eyes were not the emotionless pits that they were a second before. His eyes were tight with emotion. She saw anger, despair, resentment, and... _loss_. That was the most predominant: _loss. _She felt her heart well up, and the urge to sob a horrified '_sorry'_ at Sherlock pressed against her. She swallowed harshly and looked down.

"What was Theo like as a baby?" Allie asked after a moment, mischievousness in her voice. "I am sure that you have _all kinds_ of stories."

Theo let out a little groan. "Please, _please,_ Mom, don't start that."

Molly turned and grinned softly at her son. "Sorry, Theo, but I just _have_ to tell everyone what a chubby baby you were."

The snickers from the Watson family and the groan from Theo made Molly giggle.

"Tell me more!" Allie demanded.

"Well, I remember when I was in the hospital right after I had Theo I was so disoriented, and when they handed me this big, chubby baby, I said, 'Well, I'm surprised I didn't pop before I gave birth.'"

There were more laughs, and Molly could see Theo blushing out of the corner of her eye. "He was really just the prettiest baby I'd ever seen though. He was born with those brown curls, and he had the cutest nose." Molly sighed, getting lost in the memory of her son's birth. "Then, when he opened his eyes..."

The urge to look at Sherlock was too great, and Molly glanced up see Sherlock staring at her with the very eyes that her son did when he was a newborn. "They were the biggest, crystalline eyes, and they just stared up at me in what I _swear_ was awe," Molly continued, holding Sherlock's gaze.

He gave a strange huff, almost as if he was holding back emotion. "They were so intelligent and piercing that I had gasped. I couldn't tell you how many compliments I received from the staff on Theo's eyes."

Allie was in awe, and Theo groaned; Mary laughed, and John chuckled, but Molly and Sherlock did nothing but stare at one another.

* * *

A/N: May I just tell you that this chapter was a BITCH to write. I've been dealing with _serious_ writer's block, and I just now was able to break out of it. Hallelujah! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Next chapter is dinner from Sherlock's PoV as a treat for your wait! I have absolutely _no_ idea when that will be up. I'm preparing for school to start again, and that mixed with writer's block means a lot of sporadic updates for the next couple months. Leave me some love! Maybe we will be able to meet two-hundred reviews in the next couple chapters! If we do that, I promise two upload a chapter that is double the normal length! Hope your week goes well!


	17. AN

**Hi guys.**

**I hate when authors do this to stories, so I apologize.**

**Due to some personal reasons, I am no longer able to finish my current stories. I am unsure whether or not I will ever be able to do complete them, so I will be posting in the summary that I am discontinuing all my stories.**

**This was a hard decision, and I appreciate everyone who followed and favorited. You guys are the best.**

**Much love.**

**-LCBH (Carly)**


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